


I'll Tell Them My Religion's You

by zoemathemata



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Touching, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Soul Bond, Vampire!John, Vampires, slight mind control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemathemata/pseuds/zoemathemata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[WIP]<br/>Meredith Rodney McKay is 5 years old when he's Chosen. </p><p>A/N - I've tagged for underage as Rodney is 5 when he and John meet. There is no sexual relationship of any kind until Rodney is 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note additional tags added for mind control and power imbalance. I'm working on this story and hope to post a chapter a week.  
> Special thank you to herasmom for offering to be my beta! She's made her way through chapter 8 [newly posted] and is working on the backlog of the fic to fix the typos. She'll get new chapters as they're ready and they'll be betaread before posting!

It was very cold. 

Grandmother took him to the park and she didn’t push him on the swing like mum did. She sat on the bench and told him to go play. But mum always played with him. Mum helped him up on the slide and put him in the swing and pushed him. And sometimes she chased him around the tree even though it was really hard to run in his snow pants. 

And after, mum would make hot cocoa from milk. Not water. 

But Grandmother told him to go play. And he’d got bored and then he thought he saw something in the forest. So he went to go look. He was big. He could do it. 

Meredith Rodney McKay was five and three quarters years old. 

That meant he was five years and eight months old. He could say he was sixty-eight months old but only babies got their age counted in months. 

And he wasn’t a baby. 

Something shiny was out on the ice. 

He wanted it. 

It was really hard to walk in snow pants but he did it. The shiny thing was right in front of him. He didn’t know what it was. It was like a rectangle but it was too thin to be a box. He reached for it. 

Something hit the ground next to his feet. Something big and loud. 

And the ground made a loud sound back. He was falling. He was in the water. 

That’s when it got cold. Very cold. And when he looked up all he saw was blue and white and it was getting farther and farther away. 

And then there was a man, looking wobbly and wavy through the water. It was getting darker and darker but he was getting closer and closer. Meredith felt all swoopy and floaty as the man grabbed him and then the light was getting brighter again.

It was the sky. 

He wasn’t in the water anymore but it was even colder now. The man was dripping on him and shaking him. He had very strange eyes. Not quite green but not brown either. His hair was dark and it stuck to his head, wet. The man flipped him over and it him on the back and it hurt and he threw up water and was coughing and that hurt even more. 

“Breathe, come on, breathe,” the man was saying.

He was _trying_. But it _hurt_ and it was _hard_. 

But he was doing it. Each time he tried, he started coughing more. 

The man picked him up, like mum sometimes did when she was taking him to bed. He was very tall. 

Meredith was still cold. 

“Goddamit, you’re freezing. Okay. Hold on.”

It was like the world was flying by them so fast he couldn’t see. The wind was cold except for where he was pressed up against the stranger’s chest. It was wet there, but it wasn’t as cold. 

People were talking all around him and there was a lot of noise and it was all white and bright lights. He wanted his mum. He could hear people asking questions. Who was he, what happened?

He couldn’t answer. He was too cold. 

Then the man spoke. 

“I’m Kindred. He’s my Chosen.”

Everyone stopped for a moment.

“Do you have papers?” someone asked. 

“No. I just Chose him. Today.”

The people started moving again, faster, louder and Meredith was tired. Someone put a blanket on him and it was warm. He stared at the man but could only see his chin and part of his nose. 

The man looked down. 

His eyes were green now. Bright green. So bright it hurt to look at. 

“You’re okay, buddy. It’ll be okay.”

***

_Two months later_

Teyla was working on his special letters with him and she said he was very good at it. 

She said the _Daeyevek_ would be very proud. 

He didn’t know what that meant but she said it a lot. He asked his mother what it meant and she smiled and said she would tell him when he was older. 

That made him mad. He was old enough right now to know. 

He was very smart. 

Teyla was teaching him regular letters and he could read the magazines around the house and his mother’s books. But they were all boring and none of them had any numbers in them. 

He was very good with numbers. 

He could add, subtract and multiply. Division was harder but it was really just the opposite of multiplication and he could do it but he had to think really hard about it. 

Teyla said she was very happy with his progress and that he was well ahead of his peers. 

That meant he was lots smarter than the kids that went to school. So he didn’t feel too bad when he saw them running by the house going to and from the bus.

He didn’t go to regular school like them. Instead, Teyla started coming to the house and she taught him stuff. Ronon came too. Ronon taught him science and history. Teyla worked with numbers and letters. They both worked with him on his special letters. So he didn’t care when he saw the other kids playing with each other. He didn’t want to play with them anyway. 

It’s because he was smart. 

And he was Chosen.

He didn’t know what that meant either but it was definitely a capital letter word. Everyone said it like that. 

Sometimes it was all Grandmother talked about. 

He hated his Grandmother. 

Teyla and mum said he shouldn’t say that but it wasn’t like it was a lie or something. It was true. He hated her. 

Ronon just laughed when he said it. Teyla gave him the same look she gave Meredith that time he said that Mr. Carter smelled funny. That was true too but Teyla still gave him that look that made Meredith feel nervous and worried. She said that before he said something out loud, he should think about how he would feel if someone said it to him. 

Which shouldn’t matter because if someone was smelly you should tell them so they will go take a bath otherwise they might not know and then they’ll just stay smelly and that’s bad. 

Teyla’s mouth made a funny shape then and he knew she wanted to yell. It was the same look that mum got before she yelled. But Teyla didn’t. She just said, “ _Daeyevek’s_ teeth, you are a handful,” which made no sense. 

It wasn’t like he told his Grandmother he hated her to her face. But he thought about it. A lot. 

His Grandmother smelled too and while it wasn’t exactly bad, he didn’t like it. She smelled like too many flowers and her hair was stiff and hard and when she hugged him, it scratched against his face. 

She came over all the time and always asked how his studies were going but then she never listened to the answer or wanted to see any of his work. 

“I’m sure it’s lovely dear. How are those Teyla and Ronon characters doing with their teachings? You’re learning a lot?”

Meredith didn’t like the way she said Teyla and Ronon’s names. And they weren’t ‘characters’ they were people. Characters were things in books. 

He was very smart so he knew things like that. 

Grandmother couldn’t even read the special letters at all. His mum could read a few but when he asked Teyla about it she said that most people didn’t have to learn it, but they could chose too if they liked. Only the Chosen and the Kindred had to learn it. 

He sort of remembered the man. The one that said he Chose Meredith. But it was all kind of fuzzy. He knew he’d been playing and that he’d fallen. Then the man had come. Then he’d gone to the hospital and when mum had shown up she’d been crying and she’d been real scared. The man had still been there and he spoke to mum for a bit and then left. 

So Meredith knew he was Chosen and the man was Kindred. So were Teyla and Ronon. Mum and Grandmother were neither. The kids on who went to school were neither. 

He didn’t know anyone who was Chosen but himself. 

“Your father, god rest his soul, would have been Chosen, I’m sure of it, if only the timing had been right,” Grandmother would say. She would take a big, deep breath and let it out so loudly. She’d do it again several more times when she visited. “It’s all about the timing, Meredith. Benedict, God bless him, would have been a magnificent Chosen. You get your brains from him, certainly and you’re the spitting image of him. I’m sure it was all meant to be that day. I must have some how known and let you wander off. I’m sure if you’re father had been here though… If only…” she took another one of her big breaths and let it out and she breathed all over him. He tried to move away but she held him close. “Well. If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.”

He asked Teyla if she thought his father would have been Chosen if he’d still been alive. Teyla shook her head. 

“I’m sure it pleases your grandmother to think so and though it can be difficult, there are times we must allow others to have their own thoughts and dreams and leave them alone. But you must never doubt your place. You are the Chosen, Meredith. Indeed, I’m sure it could have been no one else.”

She said she would explain it all when he got older. 

He tried really hard to get her to tell him all about it but he learned early on he couldn’t make Teyla do anything she didn’t want to do. 

When Grandmother would talk about Meredith’s father being Chosen, his mum would get her ‘tight’ face - the one where it looked like she was getting pinched under the table. He didn’t think mum liked Grandmother either and he said that to her once, after Grandmother had left. Mum was cleaning the tea pot and she shook her head and put the tea pot down to kneel in front of him. Her hands were a little wet and soapy on his sleeves. 

“Your grandmother is… very lonely, Meredith, and I think you’re father would be happy to know that we make sure she can come visit when she likes and that we make time for her.”

“She wouldn’t even play with me. When I fell.”

Mum’s hands got real tight on his shoulders. “We can’t… you shouldn’t…” She shook her head. “It was an accident. She misses your father very much. Just like you do.”

Which wasn’t really true. He didn’t even remember his father so he couldn’t really miss him. Sometimes he got a funny feeling in his tummy when he thought about him and he didn’t like it so he tried not to think about him very much. It was a lot harder when Grandmother was around because she talked about him all the time. 

Mum said he’d gone to live in heaven but what she really meant was that he died. People didn’t like it when he said that. They liked it better when he said his father lived in heaven instead of just saying he got sick and died. 

Ronon said it made people uncomfortable to talk about death and so they tried to put pretty words around it to make themselves feel better.

“That’s dumb. They’re still dead even if you don’t say the word,” Meredith told him. 

Ronon shrugged one of his shoulders. “People are weird about death. It’s one of the reasons why the Kindred make them nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re hard to kill. We don’t get old like people do. We don’t get sick either.”

Meredith thought this over carefully. He knew three types of people: Kindred, Chosen and then everyone else. So if regular people died and Kindred didn’t, he didn’t know what that meant about Chosen. 

“What about me? What about the Chosen?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“A lot of things.”

It was a terrible answer but that usually meant that Ronon wouldn’t give him a good one. If Ronon was going to give a good answer, he did it right away. He tried asking Teyla questions that Ronon wouldn’t answer and she never answered them either. 

He tried to sneak answers out of them but Teyla and Ronon always knew when he was trying. His mum didn’t know any really good answers. Sometimes Meredith felt like he was really close to finding out something from his mum but then she would shrug and say that was all she knew. His Grandmother pretended like she knew but he tried asking her a few questions he already knew the answer too and she told him wrong stuff so he stopped trying to ask her. 

She talked a lot about being Chosen and how Meredith would make the family proud and how smart he was and how all her friends knew he was Chosen. But she didn’t know what it meant or if he would end up like the Kindred or not. 

Mostly he tried to avoid her when she came over but mum always made him come in the room and have a glass of water while Grandmother had her tea. 

He wasn’t even allowed to have any of the cookies. Just the fruit or vegetables. 

Cookies were for guests. 

He should probably like Grandmother for telling his mother that she should give him a cookie, for goodness sake, but he didn’t like the way his mother’s face looked when Grandmother said that. His mother asked him very nicely to go get his science book to show his Grandmother, which was stupid because Grandmother didn’t know _any_ science, but he got up and went to get it anyway because she had that _look_ on her face. 

And then he listened at the door. 

“Beatrice.”

That was Grandmother’s grownup name. Meredith tried to use it once and she got mad and said it wasn’t appropriate and that he had to call her Grandmother. 

“It’s only a cookie, Charlotte.”

“No, it’s not only a cookie. You know he has problems with his blood sugar. He can’t have that much sugar all at once.”

“Nonsense. He’s going to end up sickly if you keep coddling him.”

“He’s not sickly.” His mother’s voice was getting loud and Meredith felt his heart thump a little. Mum never raised her voice. Never. 

“He’s not sickly,” she said again. “He just can’t have that much refined sugar. We’ve talked about this. And you coming in here and offering him cookies and sweets-”

“I’m his grandmother. That’s what I do.”

He heard his mother take a deep breath. “If you cannot follow the rules of my house then I’m afraid I can’t have you over anymore.”

Meredith crossed his fingers and hoped really hard. Maybe Grandmother wouldn’t come by anymore with her smelly flower clothes and pokey hair. 

“If his father were still alive-” Grandmother said, but Mum cut her off. 

“Meredith cannot have extra sweets,” his mum continued and then her voice got really stern. Meredith’s eyes got big. He _never_ heard her like this before. “It’s for his health. And if you won’t do it for that reason alone, I’ll have no choice but to speak to Teyla and Ronon about it.”

“It’s just a cookie,” his Grandmother repeated. “And that Teyla and Ronon aren’t doctors.”

“They are the hands of the _Daeyevek_.” Meredith felt nervous. His mother’s voice was loud. She wasn’t even trying to be quiet now. “The _Daeyevek_ didn’t have to leave Meredith with me. He can take him at any time. Other Kindred do that with their Chosen. Just take them away and…” 

Meredith felt a little sick now. It sounded like his mum was crying. He’d only seen it happen once before when he had a lemon drop candy he found on the counter. 

That had been a very bad day and he didn’t like to think about it. He crouched down against the wall and opened his science book up to read the equations in it. 

“Nonsense. Meredith would never be taken away,” his Grandmother said. 

“Beatrice, if you can’t or won’t follow the rules, you aren’t welcome here. If anything happens to Meredith and the _Daeyevek_ finds out, he could… he could… I’ve read about other Chosen who get taken away and no one cares for them.”

“That is absolute hogwash. Chosen have their every need fulfilled. Anything they want-”

“Anything their Kindred want to give them,” his mum said. “We’re so, so lucky that Meredith wasn’t chosen by one of the Wraith or the G’ould. Their Chosen look like shadows of people. Barely alive.”

The letters and numbers of the equations swam in front his eyes. He’d never heard this much about Chosen before. No one would ever talk to him about it. There were words he’d never heard in there before. Wraith and G’ould. He’d thought being Chosen was a good thing but the way his mum was talking-

“What are doing down there, Meredith?”

He looked up and saw Teyla standing before him, her calm, serene face wearing a slightly quizzical expression. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t open his mouth to speak. His tummy didn’t feel good and he wanted to go to his bed and get under the covers. Teyla tipped her head slightly and listened to his mum and his Grandmother. Meredith could hear a loud thumping in his ears, could only make out a few words his Grandmother was saying, something about the Wraith and the G’ould and some other words he didn’t know. 

He was always very good at remembering new things and even though he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to listen, he could feel his brain picking out words and he knew he’d remember them later. 

Mongrels, feral, savage, sadistic. 

Teyla’s mouth got thin and tight at the corners and she crouched down next to Meredith. 

“Come, Meredith. Ronon has brought you a gift. A new lens for your telescope.”

“It’s not dark yet,” he said quickly. 

She smiled. “I know. We have to set it up correctly first before it gets dark. Will you show Ronon and me how?”

He nodded and she took his science book from his lap and tucked it under her arm, standing up and holding her hand out for him. It was warm and soft. His fingers were cold and she wrapped her whole hand around them. 

“I thought being Chosen was a good thing,” he said quietly. 

Teyla squeezed his fingers. “For you, it is a good thing. Nothing bad will ever happen to you, Meredith. The _Daeyevek_ will not allow it.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Three years later_

Meredith was scared. 

His mum said today was a very special day and she was very proud of him and that he would do great. 

But he was scared. 

She was holding his hand very tightly and he told her that she was hurting his fingers. She gave him her weird smile, the one that didn’t use any of her teeth and made her look sad. She said she was very sorry and then her hand relaxed. 

But a few minutes later, it hurt again. 

They were at really big, really old house and even though he was pretending he wasn’t scared, he was. It was dark and there wasn’t a lot of furniture around so every step he and his mother took on the tile floor echoed. 

It had good acoustics. 

He knew that word really well because he learned it in his science and his music classes. He liked science and music the best. More than math, English or history. 

There wasn’t a lot of light either. All the windows were shut with big, heavy curtains pulled closed over them. There were some big hanging lights, chandeliers his mum said they were called. But they only had really dim bulbs in them. 

The house smelled old too. Like nobody lived there a lot. 

The house had looked big on the outside - grey stone with leaves that were turning brown because it was fall. There was a man with a rake working hard in the area where his mother parked the car and when Meredith and his mum got out of the car, he raced up the stairs to get the door for them. Mum smiled that weird smile at him and thanked him. 

Mum had stopped for a moment to fix Meredith’s tie. He’d pulled it loose in the car because it was pinching his neck but she tightened it again and made sure his short sleeved shirt was tucked into his pants and that his hair was combed nicely. 

Teyla and Ronon had said today was his dedication and they’d been working with him on it for a long time. He’d learned to read a lot of the special letters for it and would have to read from a special book. At first, it had seemed like just another study thing he had to do, but then they kept working with him on it and his mum’s face got tighter and tighter the closer it got. Grandmother kept asking him about it and saying she couldn’t wait to see it happen and one day she said she wished it had been his dad instead of him. Mum told her to leave the house and she couldn’t come back. He’d been on the couch when it happened and he slid off the seat and hid behind the footstool. Even though he was almost nine and shouldn’t be scared, the way his Grandmother had looked at his mum and his mum had looked back made his stomach hurt. His Grandmother said she had every right to be there and mum had said she’d used up all her rights long ago and mum was sick and tired of it. 

Meredith put his hands over his ears but it didn’t help. He could still hear them fighting - mum telling Grandmother to leave and Grandmother refusing. 

Then Ronon came in and picked him up and even though Meredith was almost nine and big now, he didn’t even mind. Ronon said that Grandmother should leave and if Meredith’s mum didn’t want her at the ceremony then “ _by Daeyevek’s teeth, you will not be there _.”__

__Then Ronon carried him out of the room and took him to the zoo. Meredith didn’t feel like it but Ronon said that was okay and they could just walk around and have a look at the animals anyway._ _

__He’d felt better by the time they went home._ _

__But now he was nervous again. A man in a suit came up and said that he was there to take Meredith upstairs to wait for the ceremony and that Mum could wait in the grand room with the others. Mum crouched down in front of him and did that thing when she grabbed him by both shoulders. That always meant something was really important._ _

__She touched his tie again and checked his shirt. “Try not get to get wrinkled, okay?”_ _

__He nodded and tried to swallow but he felt like he had something in his throat._ _

__“I know you’re going to do a really good job, Mer. Okay?”_ _

__She kissed him on the cheek and normally he hated it but this time he didn’t even mind and didn’t squirm when she pulled a tissue out of his purse and wiped her lipstick off his face. She gave him another squeeze._ _

__“Okay. I’ll be right inside. If you get nervous, you look for me.”_ _

__“Or Teyla and Ronon,” he said. They were supposed to be there too._ _

__She nodded. “Or Teyla or Ronon,” she repeated and her fingers got really tight on his shoulder, one of her nails digging in to his arm through his shirt. But he didn’t say anything about it._ _

__The man in the suit coughed and mum looked quickly at him and then let go of Meredith, smoothing out her skirt as she stood._ _

__“Okay, Mer. You go on now. I’ll see you soon.”_ _

__The man put a hand on Meredith’s shoulders and led him up a really big staircase and then down a long hallway until he opened a door and told Meredith he could wait inside._ _

__“Is someone going to come get me when it’s time?” Meredith asked, trying to keep his voice even. He was a big boy now, eight years old, almost nine, so he wasn’t scared. He just wanted to make sure someone was going to come get him or how else would he know when it was time. The man just nodded and said that yes, someone would come._ _

__Meredith supposed that was okay._ _

__It was a nice room. He felt bad wearing his shoes on the carpet but no one had told him to take them off and he didn’t really want to because then he’d have to put them back on again. He figured if he didn’t want to get wrinkled he should try to move as little as possible. He looked around and saw some big chairs with footstools and thought that would be a good choice._ _

__He sat on the padded stool that was pushed up close to one of the chairs. If he scooted close to the edge, his feet almost touched the floor. It felt like a really tall stool instead of just a place to rest feet. The chair it belonged to was very big and it had a frame. If he sat in it, he would pretty much be closed in by the big stuffed wings that were along the side. But then his legs would stick straight out and he didn't think he was strong enough to move the stool he was sitting on back._ _

__It was made with very dark wood and seemed like it would be really heavy._ _

__He put his hands on his legs and tried not to move very much, thinking about wrinkles. Mum spent all morning ironing his pants and shirt, getting sharp creases in the pant legs and on the shoulders._ _

__He didn't want to mess it up._ _

__It was really quiet in the room. He couldn't hear anyone from downstairs, even though he was pretty sure that they would be talking to one another, maybe already eating the party snacks._ _

__Although generally he wasn't allowed to have any snacks. Mum might be able to pick out a few things for him to have. Vegetables or maybe some of the crackers. Never any of the sweets and only fruit sometimes, depending on what he'd already eaten that day. He didn't really mind. She'd explained it all to him about how his tummy wasn't so good at stretching out the food he ate for long times, burning up all the sugar really quickly and then not leaving any left. So he had to be careful not to eat too much sugar too fast, and to try to eat a lot of smaller things regularly._ _

__She said he was very smart so she was sure he understood. But she also said that she knew he saw the treats sometimes and got excited. One time he ate four strawberry tarts after Grandmother said he could and he felt like he could fly, he had so much energy, but then after an hour, he felt really sick and got a headache. After that he never listened when Grandmother said he could have one of the treats._ _

__But if there were crackers, mum would probably get him some. She said if there were strawberries she would make sure to save him some._ _

__He heard a creaking sound from outside the door and looked over toward the noise._ _

__The door remained closed and nothing more happened. He kicked his feet a little bit, letting them thump against the footstool. It made a really good thump._ _

__"Hello, Meredith."_ _

__He jumped at the sound and turned around. Behind him stood a tall man with really messy hair._ _

__Sometimes, he had a problem with his mouth getting ahead of his brain. His mum said he should think about what he was going to say before he said it and decide if it was helpful, necessary or important. But sometimes he forgot or it was too late. This was one of those times._ _

__"My mum would kill me if I let my hair get that messy," he said and then quickly felt his cheeks get a little hot._ _

__But the man just smiled and then laughed a bit. He had very white teeth and Meredith found himself staring at them, but he couldn't really say why._ _

__"Would she? She seems like she combed yours down pretty good," the man said._ _

__Meredith slouched a bit, relaxed. The man didn't seem like he was one of those grownups that would get mad at him for saying things like that._ _

__"Yeah, she put lots of gel in it and some of her spray net."_ _

__"Shellacked."_ _

__Meredith frowned. He didn't know that word. "What's that mean?"_ _

__The man shrugged a bit. "Means just what you said. Slicked down and stuck really good."_ _

__"Yeah." He kicked his feet again but stopped when he realized how loud the thumping was now with someone else in the room._ _

__"I wanted to come by and introduce myself. I'm John."_ _

__"Hi, John," Meredith said dutifully. Then he remembered Teyla's lessons. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Meredith. Meredith McKay."_ _

__He pushed himself off the stool and went to stand in front of John, sticking his hand out but John didn't come any closer to shake it. Teyla had never said what to do if that happened._ _

__"You're supposed to shake it," he said, wiggling his hand a bit._ _

__John just smiled again and then pulled up another one of the heavy footstools from the other big chair. It moved across the carpet easily, not at all like it was as heavy as Meredith thought it was. He pulled it up close to the footstool Meredith had been sitting on and made a gesture like Meredith was to sit back down. Meredith pushed off with his feet, giving a little hop to get back up on the footstool and John sat down in front of him. John was dressed in black pants with a dark green shirt. He'd forgotten the top buttons and he wasn't wearing a tie. Meredith guessed if he went around with his hair looking like that all the time, his mum probably didn't tell him when to wear a tie either._ _

__He sort of looked familiar and Meredith felt like maybe he should know him._ _

__"Do you know why you're here today, Meredith?" John asked._ _

__Meredith wondered if maybe this was like the tests that Teyla and Ronon gave him. If maybe they were checking to make sure he'd been paying attention at his lessons._ _

__He always paid attention._ _

__Well, mostly. Except when it was really boring or he already knew the answers._ _

__He nodded. “Yes. I’m here for my dedication.”_ _

__John nodded. He leaned forward a bit, clasping his hands and letting them fall between his knees. “And do you know what that means?”_ _

__Meredith wanted to fidget but tried really hard not to. “Um…”_ _

__John smiled and again, Meredith looked at his teeth._ _

__“You have really nice teeth,” he said._ _

__“Thank you,” said John. “It’s okay if you don’t know exactly what you’re here for. I made it a little hard for Teyla and Ronon to teach you because I wanted to talk to you myself.”_ _

__“You know Teyla and Ronon?”_ _

__John nodded. “Yes. They work for me. It’s their job to help take care of you for me.”_ _

__Meredith got that quick shock he sometimes got when his brain worked really fast. “Are you the _Daeyevek_?”_ _

__“I am. Do you know what that means?”_ _

__He had another one of his quick brain flashes and he remembered looking up at John before, with John’s wet hair and green eyes looking down at him. “You were there. That day with the water. That was you. I remember now!” he exclaimed, very proud of himself for remembering._ _

__“Yes. You were very little.”_ _

__“I was only five then. I’m eight now, almost nine. I’m lots older.”_ _

__He smiled. “Yes, you are. Do you know what it means, that I’m the _Daeyevek_?”_ _

__He thought for a bit. “Um. That you’re the boss of all the Kindred?” Meredith answered. Although, he wasn’t exactly sure. He’d never really asked but it seemed like that was the answer._ _

__“Well, not all the Kindred. Just my family.”_ _

__“How big’s your family?”_ _

__John seemed to think about this for a moment, making a face while he did. “About 300 Kindred.”_ _

__“That’s a lot.”_ _

__John nodded again. “It can be. A lot of them will be here today for your dedication. And there will be some other Kindred here who aren’t part of my family but part of other Kindred families.”_ _

__“Like Wraith?” Meredith asked and he felt a little scared._ _

__John frowned at him, but not in a mean way, more like he was trying to figure something out. “Do you know about Wraith?”_ _

__Meredith shrugged. He didn’t want to say that he knew the word because he heard it when he was listening in on his mum and Grandmother. But he didn’t want to lie either and say he didn’t know it._ _

__“Well, there will be some Wraith there. Have you ever seen one?”_ _

__Meredith shook his head and John nodded._ _

__“They look pretty different and some people find them scary. But, this is my house and while they’re here they have to follow my rules, so you don’t have to worry.”_ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__“So, I wanted to talk to you about your dedication. Can you tell me what you know?”_ _

__“There’s going to be some talking and I have to read from a book. And then someone else is going to read from the book.” Meredith paused. “Will that be you?”_ _

__“It will be.”_ _

__“And then there’s going to be a ceremony.” He made sure he said all the syllables. Sometimes he missed one and it sounded like cer-mon-y, so he slowed it down to make sure he got them all. “And then there might be some snacks. Mum will save me a strawberry if there are any.”_ _

__“Your mom is pretty good at her job, huh. Taking care of you.”_ _

__“I guess,” Meredith said. He kicked his feet a little and they thumped against the footstool and he had to remind himself to stay still._ _

__“Part of the dedication means that… you and I will be… matched up.”_ _

__“For what?”_ _

__“For forever.”_ _

__Meredith could feel his eyebrows move as he frowned. “That’s impossible. Forever is incalculable.”_ _

__Sometimes when Meredith told grownups things he knew that were true that they didn’t know they got mad but John only smiled. “I suppose it is. Well, for a long time then.”_ _

__“But why?”_ _

__“Someday, when you’re older, I’ll tell you why.”_ _

__He couldn’t stop himself. He rolled his eyes. It was such a lame grownup answer and it didn’t say when, just that they’d tell him later. Which made it sound like he wasn’t old enough now._ _

__“I’m really smart. You can tell me now. I’ll understand. I can do math and physics and I’m really good at history and music too.”_ _

__“I know. Teyla and Ronon tell me you’re incredibly smart. But this is about being older, not smarter.”_ _

__“Fine,” he said. He knew his tone was what his mum called ‘sullen’ but he couldn’t help that either._ _

__It was dumb that people didn’t tell him stuff._ _

__“What I really wanted to tell you about the dedication is that it’s kind of like going to the doctor’s office.”_ _

__Meredith was totally confused now but he didn’t want to say he was. Especially after he’d just gotten done saying how smart he was. “Oh.”_ _

__“You know how sometimes when you go to the doctor, you get a needle?”_ _

__“Yeah,” said Meredith. He didn’t like where this was going. “Am I gonna hafta get one today too?”_ _

__John nodded. “Yes. Only instead of putting something in, we’re taking something out.”_ _

__“I’ve had blood tests before. I’m not a baby. I know what they are.”_ _

__“That’s great,” John said with a smile and again Meredith stared at his teeth. They were very shiny._ _

__Very white._ _

__John shifted and Meredith had to blink a bit to put his face back in focus._ _

__“Do you get a blood test too?” he asked._ _

__This time John shook his head. “No. But I’m going to have to drink yours.”_ _

__“Gross!” Meredith exclaimed and John laughed a little._ _

__“It does seem a little gross, doesn’t it? But that’s something that Kindred do and it helps us be attached to our Chosen. I’ll tell you a secret,” John said, his voice going low and Meredith felt really important. “Afterward, if you ever get lost, I’ll be able to find you anywhere.”_ _

__“How?”_ _

__“That’s how it works with Kindred and Chosen,” John said._ _

__It was a horrible answer and Meredith frowned. “But is it science?”_ _

__“I think it’s more like magic. Kindred magic.”_ _

__Magic could be fun but really, it was just tricking someone who wasn’t as smart as you. It didn’t really make sense to Meredith that John would be able to find him by magic. Plus…._ _

__“What if I don’t want to be found?”_ _

__“Why wouldn’t you?”_ _

__Meredith shrugged. He couldn’t really think of any reason but he figured there had to be some reason to it, even if John said it was magic._ _

__Then he thought of something else and fidgeted a little. He was really grossed out by John having to drink blood and it occurred to him that he might have to do the same thing too._ _

__“Do I hafta do anything really gross?” he asked to check._ _

__“Nope. Just me.”_ _

__Meredith looked at John really carefully trying to see if he was telling the truth. He couldn’t think of a reason why John would lie to him so maybe it would be okay._ _

__“Although,” John said, reaching into one of his pockets._ _

___Here it comes,_ thought Meredith, his mind already racing with all the gross things it could be. Blood, bugs, dog poop or like that one time that he was playing outside in the front yard and one of the big kids from the school down the street pushed his face into the dirt and he almost _almost_ got a worm in his mouth. _ _

__But then Ronon showed up and that had been the end of that._ _

__“They tell me a slug used to live in this,” John finished._ _

__Meredith had leaned all the way back on the stool so when John pulled out some kind of necklace thing from his pocket, he had to lean in closer._ _

__“That’s an ammonite!” Meredith exclaimed. “They make a Fibonacci spiral with their shells. I know all about them!”_ _

__“Ronon told me how much you liked math and science.” John set the ammonite shell on his palm and Meredith scooched up closer to have a better look._ _

__It looked like it had been sawed in half and polished until it was perfectly smooth and shiny. It was mostly brown and gold with some green flecks. He reached out a finger to touch it but stopped a millimeter away and looked up at John._ _

__“Go ahead, it’s yours.”_ _

__He didn’t take it out of John’s palm, only touched it lightly with his fingertip. It was as smooth as it looked._ _

__“Only girls wear necklaces,” said Meredith. Although he really wanted it._ _

__“Well, this isn’t really an ordinary necklace. See, part of being matched up is that we each have to do something. I have to drink your blood,” John said and Meredith made a face again. “But you just have to wear this.”_ _

__“For how long?”_ _

__John shrugged. “For always. But, the thing is, you can’t tell anyone about it.”_ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__“Well, you know how I said I’d be able to find you? And it was kind of like Kindred magic? This necklace will help me with that. I make part of our dedication by drinking your blood and you do the other part by wearing this necklace. But if you tell people about it, they could take it away from you. Maybe break it.”_ _

__“And then you can’t find me?”_ _

__John moved his head back and forth like a see-saw. “It would take me a lot longer and it would be a lot harder.”_ _

__Meredith bit the inside of his lip. He could keep a secret. He knew he could, but…_ _

__“Can I tell my mum?”_ _

__John nodded. “Yes. In fact, I’ll have Teyla and Ronon tell your mum so she knows how important it is. But you can’t tell anyone else.”_ _

__He didn’t really know anyone else so it seemed like a pretty fair trade. Meredith shrugged. “Okay.”_ _

__John undid the clasp on the necklace and Meredith leaned forward even more, tipping his head down. Up close, John smelled like soap and something outdoorsy. Like the trees in his neighborhood. Not bad._ _

__Just different._ _

__The chain was already warm, probably from being in John’s pocket. John fiddled with the clasp and then let it go, the ammonite’s weight dropping underneath Meredith’s shirt. It was warm, too, against his chest and a little heavy._ _

__He liked it._ _

__“So,” John said, sitting up a bit straighter. “Did you have any questions?”_ _

__“Yes,” Meredith said immediately. If this was his chance, he wasn’t going to blow it. “Why am I Chosen? How come I’ve never met you before? Why do Teyla and Ronon teach me stuff? How come I don’t go to school with the other kids? Would you have picked my dad if he didn’t die? Do Wraith really suck the life out of their Chosen? How? And why? If Kindred live a long time, how old are you? Why didn’t you Chose another Kindred?”_ _

__He paused to catch his breath._ _

__“Wow, been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?” John interrupted._ _

__“I’m very smart. I think a lot.”_ _

__“I bet you do,” John answered. He stared at Meredith for a moment and looked like he was thinking. “The thing is, Meredith, a lot of those questions are for when you’re older as well. I can tell you that I had very specific reasons for picking you and you only. Nobody else. Teyla and Ronon teach you because there’s extra things you have to learn, things they don’t teach at regular school.”_ _

__“Like the special letters.”_ _

__“Exactly,” replied John. “And you’re very smart, so regular school would probably be really boring for you.” John twisted his wrist and looked at the big black watch he had on._ _

__“Are we late?” Meredith asked, feeling a little nervous at the thought._ _

__“They’ll wait for us. They kind of have to.” John shrugged. “Now, as for another one of your questions - why we haven’t really met before.” He paused and Meredith felt like he needed to sit up straighter and pay attention. “Sometimes, with Kindred and their Chosen, we know who we want to Chose right away. But it’s hard because Kindred are grownup and sometimes the Chosen aren’t.”_ _

__“I’m not a baby,” Meredith immediately protested, knowing where this was going._ _

__“No, you’re not. But I’m a lot older than you and it makes it really hard for us to be friends later on if we spend a lot of time together now.”_ _

__It didn’t really make sense to Meredith but John had just admitted that he didn’t think Meredith was a baby so he didn’t want to go and screw it up by saying he didn’t understand, so he just nodded._ _

__“Right now, it’s really important that you get to learn and try new things and do your lessons. And later on, when you’re bigger, we can hang out more. But for now, we’ve each got our own stuff to do.” John looked at him really closely. “Okay?”_ _

__Meredith shrugged. “I guess.”_ _

__John kind of laughed but it didn’t make Meredith feel bad or dumb or anything. But it did show off John’s teeth again._ _

__“But I’m always looking out for you and paying attention. Okay?”_ _

__Meredith shrugged again. “Sure.”_ _

__“Come on,” said John, standing up. “We should head downstairs. It’s time for your dedication.”_ _

__Meredith slid off the footstool and smoothed his pants. He didn’t touch his hair even though he was dying to check to make sure it was still stuck down._ _

__But he supposed if John wasn’t going to go out with his hair like that then it didn’t really matter what Meredith’s hair looked like._ _

__He still felt a little nervous and kind of wished his mum was here with him. But he didn’t want to say anything because he’d just gone and told John he wasn’t a baby so if he asked for his mum now he’d look really stupid._ _

__But if she were there, she could check his hair and his shirt one more time and she’d do that thing where she’d hold her hand out and make him take it. And then he didn’t have to feel bad for really liking holding her hand still, even though he was eight, because it was her idea and she made him do it._ _

__Then John put his hand on Meredith’s shoulder and led him down the stairs and it was almost as good as having someone hold his hand. He didn’t have to keep looking to know where he was going - he could feel John’s fingers press lightly on his shoulder and direct him where to go. John didn’t walk very fast so Meredith didn’t have to run a bit to keep up. He felt a lot better about that because then he wouldn’t get messy or dirty._ _

__They went through the main hall again, where Meredith and his mum had first come in and then they walked down a long corridor. Both of their shoes made sounds on the tile floor. Meredith’s made light little taps, but John’s made loud, deep clicks. They finally got to a big set of dark doors and the handles were at a weird height - higher than normal. The doors looked really heavy but John just turned the handle and pushed one open like it was a screen door._ _

__A bunch of people turned and looked at them both and Meredith froze._ _

__There were monsters in the room._ _

__Somewhere in that room was his mum and there were monsters in there with her._ _

__There were five of them. They had long white hair, longer than anyone else’s and it just hung down - almost kind of messy. Their faces were green and shiny and they had marks on them, like holes in their skin._ _

__They were all looking at Meredith. Their eyes were yellow and wrong._ _

__He stopped still. He didn’t want to go in any more._ _

__He didn’t want to take his eyes off the monsters in case they moved. Even when John crouched down next to him, Meredith kept his eyes on the monsters._ _

__“Remember what I said, Meredith. This is my house and nothing bad will happen to you here.”_ _

__Meredith wanted to believe him. He had believed him upstairs._ _

__“Are those Wraith?” he asked quietly. One of the monsters moved their head a little and Meredith was sure that it had heard him. He took a step sideways closer to John. John’s hand was on Meredith’s shoulder and it felt heavy and solid._ _

__“Yes, those are Wraith. They’re here to watch the dedication. It’s a sign of respect for other Kindred to come and see our Chosen and their ceremony.”_ _

__Meredith was finally able to pull his eyes away from the monsters and look at John. He was very close to Meredith now, kneeling in front of him. Up close his eyes were a funny color. Not green, not gold, not brown. Just a mixed up mess of all of them. Meredith was worried maybe John thought he was being scared like a little kid. But John just looked at him like he didn’t mind waiting._ _

__“If it really bothers you, I can ask them to leave.”_ _

__Meredith thought about it, but that would mean he was really, really scared._ _

__And John had said he didn't have to be._ _

__“That’s okay. I’m not scared,” Meredith said. It was just a little lie so it probably didn’t count._ _

__John nodded. “Okay then, buddy. Let’s go.”_ _

__He stood up and Meredith followed when John started walking forward. He was so relieved when he made it past the Wraith that he almost missed his mum smiling at him in the front row. She gave him the thumbs up with both hands and mouthed ‘good job’ at him, smiling._ _

__He felt a lot better._ _

__He saw Ronon and Teyla too, in the front row next to his mum. He didn’t recognize anyone else. He felt really strange and nervous with everyone looking at him and John. He snuck a peek over at John and he didn’t seem to care that everyone was looking at them. He stood really tall and straight, looking straight ahead as they walked._ _

__Meredith made sure he didn’t look over again at where the Wraith were standing, but he just knew they were looking at him._ _

__He could feel it. Cold and slimy on his back._ _

__The ceremony took a long time._ _

__Ronon and Teyla each got up and stood behind a tall box, the _podium_ (he knew that word) and spoke for a bit. They thanked everyone for coming, even the Wraith, and reminded everyone that there were rules for a dedication and there were punishments for not following the rules. Ronon looked right at the back of the room where the Wraith were when he said that and Meredith felt his tummy relax a bit. Then John got up behind the podium and talked too. He used a lot of words that Meredith thought he might understand but wasn’t totally sure. He tried to remember some of them: ancestral, immemorial, fidelity and consort. Then he switched to the Other Language. The one that used the special letters. Ronon and Teyla spoke it a lot and Meredith was working hard on learning it. He knew some words but not a lot of the one’s John spoke. He really liked the way it sounded. It had a lot of k’s and v’s and t’s and s’s and sounded like a bunch of sticks hitting the ground all at once. It sounded sharp and precise and Meredith liked it better than he liked English. Teyla said he was learning it very well and had an excellent accent. _ _

__He liked the way John spoke. He didn’t talk fast, like Meredith did, but he wasn’t super slow like Mr. Baumgarten from the store at the corner. John made everything he said sound like it was really important. He would look at Meredith sometimes and Meredith made sure that he was always looking at John and paying attention. Teyla and Ronon didn’t say there was going to be a test or anything, but you never knew for sure so it was better to pay attention._ _

__Then John stopped speaking and he bowed his head once to Meredith and that meant it was Meredith’s turn. He went over to the box and saw that behind it was a step stool for him and he climbed up. The room looked a lot more full from the front, now that he could see everyone’s faces._ _

__He felt like he had butterflies in his tummy. Everyone was looking at him. Even the Wraith in the back. He knew what he had to say and he knew there was a book in front of him he could read from, but he was still scared. His hands felt shaky and they were getting sweaty and he didn’t know if he should wipe them on his good pants or not. He looked down at the book in front of him and saw the words he was supposed to read but his mouth felt really dry and he didn’t know if he could do it._ _

__John was suddenly beside him and he picked up one of Meredith’s hands and put it on the book, right under the words Meredith was supposed to start at. Meredith could hear him quietly speaking the first line, sounding it out slow and carefully and it made Meredith remember what he was supposed to be doing and he started reading, just like he practiced. He could hear his voice was quiet and wobbly but John kept reading with him and by the time they got to the second paragraph, Meredith got louder and didn’t feel as nervous anymore. John stopped speaking along with him but stayed beside him until Meredith finished reading his section and then John helped him take the big step off the stool._ _

__Another man, this one with bright blue eyes came forward and knelt in front of Meredith. He had a black bag and looked at Meredith with a smile._ _

__“Hi lad, my name is Carson. John told you about the wee little blood test we need to take?”_ _

__Meredith nodded. “Yes. He said he had to drink my blood but that I didn’t have to do anything gross.”_ _

__Carson smiled and looked from Meredith to John and Meredith was worried for a minute that he’d said something wrong but when he looked at John, John was smiling too._ _

__“Aye, that’s right,” said Carson and he dug in his bag taking out a small needle kit. “Do you want to sit down or maybe have your mum come up?”_ _

__“No, I’m not scared,” said Meredith._ _

__“How silly of me,” Carson said as he swabbed the inside of Meredith’s elbow with a cold, wet pad and pulled out a needle. “Big lad like yourself. All right, wee poke right now.”_ _

__Meredith had had needles before but Carson must be a very good doctor because it only hurt a bit, like a big pinch and then nothing. He watched as the big vial filled up quickly with dark red blood. It didn’t take long and then Carson was pulling the needle out and pressing against Meredith’s elbow with a cotton pad and putting a band-aid on._ _

__He’d kind hoped for one of the fun bandaids doctors sometimes had like Spider Man or Scooby-Doo but he wasn’t about to ask. Especially since he’d been telling everyone he was big now._ _

__He nodded. “Thank you, Carson.” He used the most serious tone he could._ _

__Carson nodded and stood up and went over to where a little table was set up with some fancy glasses made out of metal - goblets, Meredith thought they were called._ _

__John moved to the center of the front of the room and put his hand on Meredith’s shoulder and brought him over as well. He looked over at his mum and then kind of wished he hadn’t. She had her tight smile on, the one she wore when she was trying to be happy but he knew she wasn’t really. He wondered if he made a mistake or something. He looked at Teyla and Ronon next but they were looking at Carson and then back at John._ _

__They didn’t seem unhappy so Meredith hoped that meant he was doing okay._ _

__He pressed against the bandage in his elbow, thinking about how he sometimes got a bruise if he didn’t. Carson was still fiddling at the table with something, he couldn't see what. Meredith looked up at John and John glanced down at him and his lips curved in a smile._ _

__It didn’t seem like a strange or bad smile. Just a regular one so Meredith smiled back._ _

__Carson came over with one of the goblet’s and there was more talking in the special language, Carson saying some stuff and then John answering. John kept his hand on Meredith’s shoulder the entire time. It felt warm and strong and Meredith didn’t feel nervous about the ceremony anymore._ _

__And then John took the goblet from Carson and took a sip from it. Meredith couldn’t help it; he knew he made a face and he looked up at John who was taking a second sip and then a third sip. John smiled at him again, only his teeth weren’t as white this time, they were stained red and Meredith couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Gross.”_ _

__John laughed, but like before, Meredith didn’t feel like John was laughing at him or anything._ _

__It seemed like everything was over after that. There was some clapping - which didn’t make sense since nobody had really done anything exciting or hard - and then people were coming up to him and John and they were congratulating the both of them - which felt weird because neither of them had done anything really special or important._ _

__He certainly didn’t feel any different. He kind of thought that maybe he’d be able to tell after the ceremony what it all meant, and maybe he could figure it out after he got more data. That was really important in science - getting more data. He was disappointed that he didn’t feel anything special or weird._ _

__He’d have to think about it some more._ _

__“So this is your little chosen one.”_ _

__Meredith looked up and into the face of one of the Wraith. He was tall, so tall. Taller than John. And he stared down at Meredith with his yellow eyes._ _

__His teeth were sharp and pointy and crowded all in on one another, like they were trying to eat themselves. Meredith pressed closer against John’s leg, feeling better when he felt John’s hand on his shoulder again._ _

__“Todd,” said John._ _

__“Such a little one,” said Todd. His voice was like rocks in a blender. “Such an odd thing. A strange choice for a Kindred of your status to make.”_ _

__“Well, you know what they say. When you meet your Chosen, you just know.”_ _

__“Indeed.”_ _

__Todd made the word sound really long. Like it was more than just two syllables. He kept staring down at Meredith and Meredith wanted to look away but felt like he didn’t dare._ _

__“What is the appeal of one so small? He’d hardly make a snack, let alone a meal.”_ _

__Meredith tried to press in closer to John. John’s hand stayed on his shoulder, steady._ _

__“I hear you haven’t found a Queen yet to be your own Chosen. It must be difficult for the Wraith. Without a Queen you can never consolidate your leadership. What a shame.”_ _

__John didn’t sound like he was sorry, at least, not any kind of sorry that Meredith had ever heard._ _

__Todd made a low sound, like a growl or a hum. “Do not trouble yourself on our account. The old ways are not the only ways.”_ _

__“Is that so?” John said and Meredith felt better at John’s voice. “Well, I can’t say I know much about Wraith hives. Just that you usually need a Queen. No Queen, no power.”_ _

__“I myself am equally uninformed on Daeva clans,” said Todd. “I know only that if your Chosen dies other than by your hand, you must forfeit your title and your power.”_ _

__John didn’t say anything but Meredith thought he saw John’s eyes flash a bright green. Todd smiled, his teeth all looking like they were fighting their way to the front of his mouth for the best spot._ _

__“You must take good care of your Chosen, John Sheppard. Such a little thing is easily lost. Or broken.”_ _

__John’s voice was very low and flat when he spoke. “I’ll keep that in mind. Be sure to let me know when you find a Queen. I’d love to come to the ceremony.”_ _

__Todd kind of nodded at John and then he looked back at Meredith again. Meredith tried not to flinch. He wondered why they Wraith would come to the party if they weren’t friends. He certainly didn’t sound like he was John’s friend. Meredith didn’t move while Todd looked at him and finally, Todd turned away._ _

__He felt John’s hand give him a few pats on his shoulder and he felt really proud of himself._ _

__His mum came up and she gave John a little curtsey and thanked John for letting her attend. John bowed his head very slowly and said that of course she should be there for Meredith and it was he who was thankful to her for doing such an excellent job and also thanking her for welcoming Teyla and Ronon into her home._ _

__The whole thing didn’t really make sense either because she was his mum - of course she was taking good care of him and if Teyla and Ronon had to teach him stuff and Meredith couldn’t go to regular school, then of course they had to come to his house._ _

__But his mum only curtseyed again and said she was happy to do as the _Daeyevek_ wished and was so thankful that he was pleased. _ _

__She was wearing her tight smile still - making her face look like it would crack._ _

__“I’m sure Meredith is tired after his big day,” John said. “And I think he was hoping you might find him some strawberries. Why don’t the two of you go into the kitchen and ask the cook to make you something? Kindred politics can be… boring.” He smiled as he said the last word, like he was sharing a joke with them._ _

__His hand, still on Meredith’s shoulder, pushed him gently toward his mum and she reached out expectantly and Meredith slid his fingers into hers. They were cold and stiff against his hot, slightly sweaty ones. His mum’s tight smile seemed to ease a bit._ _

__“That would be wonderful, thank you. I’m afraid I’m not… accustomed to being part of Kindred events.”_ _

__Two of the other Wraith walked by and Meredith watched his mum as her eyes tracked and followed them across the room._ _

__“I call those two Bob and Steve,” John said, tipping his head toward to the two Wraith that just walked by. His mum turned her head back to him, eyes wide._ _

__“Are those their names?”_ _

__John shrugged. “I’ve no idea what their names are. The Wraith have a strange superstition about their real names so they refuse to give them out. Sometimes I wonder if they even know themselves anymore. But I have to call them something. I can’t just call them ‘hey you.’”_ _

__His mum laughed a bit but it wasn’t her normal laugh, like when they read a funny book at home or watched tv. It was high-pitched and thin. She pressed her fingers agains the cloth of the shirt she wore, high up on the neck. She’d worn a turtle neck today and Meredith kind of wondered why. It was a special occasion and she had a really pretty blue top that she liked to wear when there was a special event. She said it was called a scooped neckline and she liked it because she could wear her necklaces with it. He thought since today was special she would wear that. Instead she wore her black turtleneck and it creeped up so high it almost touched her ears._ _

__She still looked really pretty but he thought the blue top was nicer. But she had said it wouldn’t be appropriate to wear to a Kindred event._ _

__She was pulling at the fabric of her turtleneck, her fingers white at the tips. Her other hand still clutched at his fingers and he wanted to pull away because his hand was getting sweaty but he didn’t think it was a good idea._ _

__“ _Daeyevek_ ,” his mum said, her voice low and a little shaky. _ _

__“You can call me John.”_ _

__His mum nodded but didn’t say John’s name. “I was wondering… I mean, if I may ask… it’s just that I know some Kindred like to have their Chosen close to them, especially after dedication. But Mer, I mean, Meredith, he’s just so…”_ _

__His mum looked down at him and Meredith got really nervous. She looked like she might cry. He didn’t know what to do. He looked up at John to see what his face looked like._ _

__John just smiled, lips closed, not showing any of his really white teeth. “Meredith will be staying with you for some time,” John said._ _

__His mum blinked a few times and started to cry and Meredith tugged at her hand, wanting to ask her what was wrong but she didn’t look down at him. She nodded, her blonde hair bouncing as she did._ _

__“There’s no need to worry,” John was saying. “I wouldn’t take him away.”_ _

__“Okay, okay,” his mum said quietly. John snapped his fingers and a man in a suit came over with a tray and John took one of the clean napkins off and handed it to Meredith’s mum and she took it and dabbed at her eyes with it and then folded it carefully. “Okay. I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the right to ask-”_ _

__“You have every right. He’s your son.”_ _

__She nodded again and then finally looked down at Meredith and gave him a smile, a real one, not one of her tight ones. She looked back at John. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”_ _

__John crouched down in front of Meredith. “Hey buddy, why don’t you and your mum go to the kitchen and you can check with the cook and see what looks good that you’re allowed to have. I bet they can even make you a tray or something to take home if you, or maybe your mum, is tired.”_ _

__John looked very closely at Meredith and Meredith got the sudden thought in his head that his mum might be tired and wanted to go home._ _

__He tugged on his mum’s hand. “We don’t have to go to the kitchen, mum. We can just go home.”_ _

__He looked back at John who was nodding his head thoughtfully. “That sounds like a really good idea. Tell you what, I’ll have Teyla and Ronon bring some of the snacks over later on so you get your strawberries.”_ _

__“Oh,” his mum said, “well, if you’re certain it’s all right. I would like to take Meredith home.”_ _

__John stood up and smiled at his mum and her fingers loosened a bit against Meredith’s own. “Of course. The rest of the day is just Kindred politics and business. I’m sure you’d find it very boring.”_ _

__“Thank you,” his mum said again and Meredith wanted to remind her she’d already said it a few times. John didn’t seem to mind. He just nodded and smiled._ _

__His mum started walking away, tugging on his hand and pulling him along with her. Meredith was happy enough to go, he guessed. It seemed like he’d been working on preparing for this day for a long time and now it was here and it was just over so quickly. He wasn’t sure what all the fuss had been about. He turned his head backward as he walked and saw John speaking to some other people. One of them had eyes that flashed bright and gold and Meredith gasped in surprise. John stopped talking immediately, almost like he heard, even though Meredith was almost out of the room. John looked directly at Meredith and then he waved a little bit and smiled._ _

__Meredith managed to wave his hand once at John before his mum left the big room, tugging him out with her as she went._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More chapter notes than chapter summary....  
> Please note the additional tags added to the story. There is also a character death in this chapter. Also, most chapters may not be this long!

Four years later

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh an Austrian sat yodeling on a hill very high, when along came a coockoo bird interrupting his cry! Yo-deley-heeeeeeeee… yodeley-hee-hee, yodeley-coo-coo-coo-coo, yodeley coo coo yo-deley-heeeeeeee.”

Meredith tried not to laugh at his mum’s off key singing but couldn’t help it. She stopped in the middle of the song and laughed along with him. 

“What? I sang this song at camp when I was a little girl, it’s great!”

“Mum, it’s so lame,” he said and he rolled his eyes at her. 

She just laughed again. “I guess you’re too cool at twelve to be hanging out with your old mum, eh?”

He wanted to roll his eyes again but she looked at him and crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out and he had to laugh. 

It had been a great trip. They’d had to drive two days to get to an amusement park but it had been worth it. She had said it was his reward for doing so well in his lessons. She cleared it with Teyla and Ronon and they’d given him a whole month off his studies. 

He couldn’t even remember when he’d had time off from lessons. Ever. 

She’d packed them up, gotten in their little sedan and off they went. They couldn't get radio in the mountains and the tape deck was on the fritz and could only play for an hour before over heating. He’d sworn he could fix it if she let him take it apart and she had ruffled his hair (which he said he hated but honestly, he kinda liked it) and said that someday she’d let him take the whole thing apart and rebuild it. 

But not today. 

Besides, she had joked, they only had two tapes: the BeeGees and the Carpenters and neither of them were suitable for a road trip. 

It was his first road trip. 

It was first trip ever, actually. 

But it had been _the best_. 

They’d ridden all the rides at the park; the roller-coasters, the bumper cars, the slides… even the lame baby rides. 

Mum had said he’d been so good watching what he ate that she even let him have half of a waffle cone with ice cream. 

One night she’d taken him to the movies and made him cover his eyes so he wouldn’t know what they were seeing and when the screen started showing _The Empire Strikes Back_ he’d totally squealed like a girl. 

But he wasn’t ever going to tell Teyla that. 

They’d eaten out at restaurants and got room service in the room and he ate french fries in bed. It was so cool. 

The hotel had a pool and mum had stayed on one of the loungers reading her book while he splashed and got to play with other kids. He’d tried really hard not to mention how dumb they were and mum said she was really proud of him. 

They didn’t even know he was Chosen and mum said it was probably better not to mention it. Since the pool was outside, she made him wear a shirt so he wouldn’t get sunburned and when one of the kids saw his amulet, he said it was just some gift and didn’t say anything about Kindred or being Chosen at all. 

He didn’t even mind one day when mum asked if they could go shopping and he tried not to get bored while she shopped for clothes and then at the end of the day she bought him a walkman which was so _expensive_ and _cool_ he just about died and hugged her right in the middle of the record store and didn’t care who saw him hugging his mum. 

So yeah, best trip ever. 

He was kind of sad to be going home but at the same time, he sort of looked forward to lessons again. He liked learning new stuff all the time and he missed Teyla and Ronon. He couldn’t wait to tell them all about their trip. 

They were about two hours into the mountains, the radio conked out and the tape deck too hot. Mum had started on her old camp songs and some of them were kind of fun. 

“The other day, I met a bear, out in the woods, a way out there…”

She’d sing the song once and, with his memory, he’d know it by the time she started the second round. It was late and the sun had dipped behind the mountains a long time ago. Mum always drove under the speed limit when it was dark. Said she couldn’t see too far ahead of her so it was better to go slow and if anyone didn’t like it, they could pass. It was cool outside and mum kept the car a little cool too because they both hated to be hot. She let him have a coke and he kept it cradled between his legs, unscrewing the top and loving the ‘pshhhhht’ sound it made every time. 

“And so I ran, away from there, but right behind me was that bear…”

She said they’d push on through till past dinner and stay at the same motel they’d been at on the way out. They’d got a late start today because they’d stopped off at some tourist type shops. He picked out a t-shirt with a big roller coaster on it and she’d bought huge, fluorescent pink sunglasses that were just ridiculous and refused to take them off at lunch which totally embarrassed him but also made him laugh so hard when she poked herself in the glasses with her straw that he sprayed water out his nose. 

“I heard a crack, I heard a crunch and I became that big bear's lunch…” 

She was humming the bars a bit, no longer singing but looking in the rear view mirror. The song trailed off just as he was getting ready to join in for her second singing of it. He was pretty sure he remembered all the words. 

“Mum?”

She didn’t answer him, her eyes flickering between the rearview mirror and the road in front of her. The car behind them must have really bright lights because the reflection from the rear view made a rectangle of white across her eyes and brows. 

“Mum?” he asked again, turning around a bit in his seat. All he could see were bright headlights, way high up, like on a truck or something. 

Mum turned the wheel a bit, moving the car to the side so the big truck could pass. It was mostly just a two lane highway but if she scooted over to the side, cars could get by and then zoom off into the night. 

But the truck didn’t pass. The bright lights swung off to the side with them. Mum rolled her window down and stuck her arm out, waving the truck around her, slowing down even more. 

The big truck came up really close behind them, so close that Meredith could see the grill, even in the darkening night. 

“Meredith?” his mum said.

“Yeah?’ he asked, hating how his voice sounded shaky and scared. 

She pressed her lips together, her brow line creasing and then she spoke. “Sometimes Chosen can contact their Kindred. Call them. Do you know if you can do that with the _Daeyevek_?” she asked, her eyes still back and forth between the mirror and the road in front of them. 

“You mean John? I don’t know,” he admitted, his hand coming up to touch the ammonite necklace. He didn’t really think of John a lot. He only met him the once. He saw Teyla and Ronon all the time and from what he understood, they worked for John. Ronon and Teyla mentioned him sometimes. They’d say the _Daeyevek_ is happy with your progress or the _Daeyevek_ bought you this or sometimes, when they were frustrated with him, they’d say _Daeyevek’s teeth, you’re difficult_. But since his dedication, he’d never seen John again. 

Except, sometimes… sometimes when he was sleeping, he’d be talking to John, telling him all about his day. Or he’d see John and ask him questions. But in his dreams he felt a lot bigger. When he looked down, it seemed the ground was farther away and when he saw his hands and his feet, they didn’t look like they did now. They were big. But he knew they were his. 

He didn’t know how to explain it. 

“I need you to try, baby, okay?”

“Mum, are we in trouble?”

“I’m not sure, Mer,” she said, her lips getting tighter. “But try, okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed. 

He wasn’t at all sure what to do, which was a completely new feeling for him. He’d never known he would have to do something like this so he had never studied, or learned… He didn’t even know it was possible until his mum mentioned it right now. 

But he remembered the day of his dedication. He remembered John sitting across from him, with his spiky hair and his weird green eyes, saying _Afterward, if you ever get lost, I’ll be able to find you anywhere._

But Meredith didn’t know if right now counted. He wasn’t lost. At least, not the way the word meant. But he did need John to find him. Him and his mum. His mum looked really scared. Her fingers were white around the steering wheel and she was going faster down the road than she normally drove but the truck was still right behind them. The light from its headlights burned across his mum’s face. He could see her eyes watering. They were the same color as his. Before she went away, his Grandmother used to say he looked just like his dad, but Meredith knew his eyes were just like his mum’s. 

He didn’t want to let her down. 

He reached into his shirt and pulled out the ammonite and clutched it in his fist. _I’m lost,_ he thought and then he thought it again, _I’m lost_. He looked over at his mum again. Her eyes were watering from the bright light, or maybe she was crying. He didn’t know. He clutched the ammonite tighter, feeling it dig into his palms. He shut his eyes tightly and thought as hard as he could, _I’m lost, I’m lost, I’m lost, come find me, come find me, I’m lost, please come find me, I’m scared_. 

There was a hard jolt and his mum shrieked, the car lurched forward and off to the side and then skidded back on the road. His eyes jerked open and all he could see was the grey metal guard rail in front of him and the car was hit with another hard jerk and for a moment…

There was nothing for a moment. There was just dead silence and he couldn’t believe they’d just gone through the guard rail and he couldn’t tell if his mum was screaming or if it was the metal of the rail and he felt sick when he realized their wheels weren’t on the ground. 

There was a loud crunch and his teeth snapped together hard and he hit his head on the window and the car was falling but it was spinning too and something hit him in the face and then hit his body. The seat belt cut into his chest and it hurt and something hit him again. His head hit the side of the car again and they were still falling, rolling down. Things were falling into him and over him and it was light, dark and then light and dark again and there was noise everywhere. The car tipped precariously like it would roll again but then it rocked back sharply, landing on the four wheels with a bounce. 

He couldn’t move. 

He didn’t know how long he just sat there not moving. Finally, he was able to wiggle his fingers and toes and then his arms and legs. He blinked trying to see. There was just the soft light of the dashboard. He looked down and there was stuff on him. He pulled at it. It was his shirt from the tourist shop, his bag from the backseat, the cooler with its ice had busted open and spilled out all over the front foot well, water all over his feet and the smell of sandwich meat and mustard in the air. Broken glass all around in tiny chunks. He felt dizzy, sick. His head hurt. He tried to reach up and touch it but his hands were shaking to much and he ended up kind of hitting himself with his own fingers. 

His chest felt tight, the belt cutting across it. There was a heavy weight on his side and he poked at it once and then again. 

It was his mum. 

She didn’t have her seat belt on. She didn’t like to wear it because it wrinkled her outfit. She must have slid across the front seat and was now squishing him against the door. 

“Mum,” he said, his voice quiet and shaky. 

It was silent in the car. 

“Mum?” he tried again, pushing at her gently. Her shoulder was soft and warm. Her head was bent forward, her blonde hair falling in her face. He gave her another push and she tipped over and fell toward the driver seat. 

“No!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. He tried to stop her from falling but she was too big. She’d fallen over, still sitting next to him, but head and body slumped toward the driver side. 

“I’m sorry, sorry, mum,” he said and his lower lip started to tremble and he could feel the hot prick of tears in his eyes and in his throat. 

But he couldn’t cry. His mum was unconscious and they’d been in an accident and he had to do something. 

But he didn’t know what. 

He pushed at the release for the seatbelt with his fingers; they were numb and uncooperative and he had to try several times before it worked and the belt finally loosened from his chest. He tried to take a deep breath but it hurt so he took a few shallow ones instead. He reached out his hand again and placed it on his mum’s shoulder. 

“Mum?” he tried again, giving her a little shake. 

He still couldn’t see her face so he leaned over and tried to push her hair out of the way. 

He touched something wet and sticky. 

He pulled his hand away and it was covered in blood. His mum’s blood. And she was… she wasn’t… 

He didn’t want to touch her anymore. He didn’t know what to do. He could feel tears running down his face and his head hurt and his chest hurt and his feet and legs were wet and he didn’t know where they were, he didn’t know! Why didn’t he know? Why hadn’t he helped her read the map or plan the trip or look at the road signs? Why didn’t he know what to do? He was supposed to be smart. 

A loud sob escaped him and on its heels another one was about to break loose when he realized there were lights from above. 

From the road. Where the truck had been. 

He swallowed his sob back and tried to peek out the window but he didn’t want to move. He couldn’t see anything from where he was. He slid down in his seat, into the foot well. He was still small enough that he could fit. Mum said he would probably be tall, like his dad was but that he’d just have to wait until his body caught up with his brain. 

Mum said not to worry. 

Mum said….

He pressed his fingers hard into the sore spot on his head. He didn’t want to think about mum right now. He needed to look at the lights. 

The lights were high up, on the road, but pointing a bit down the hill, where their car had tumbled and slid. 

There were people-shapes breaking up the lights, but instead of making him feel relieved it made him feel sick. Those people were trying to hurt him and mum. They’d pushed them off the road. And now he was stuck at the bottom and he was hurt and he couldn't wake mum up. 

The shapes moved and he could tell, even from far away, that they didn’t move like regular people. They were clunky; odd. 

They had long hair. 

He stared harder trying to see something, anything. 

Their hair was white. 

_Wraith._

He was crying again. Big, fat tears running down his cheeks and he didn’t care if that made him a baby or not because they were monsters. They were monsters and they were here and he wasn’t in John’s house this time. 

And he was so scared. 

They started moving down the hill, sending rocks and dirt down. It hit the car with clinking and thudding sounds and he pressed himself deeper into the foot well. He looked at his mum and then at the door. He wanted to run, but he didn’t want to leave her. He couldn’t leave his mum. Even if... But he was so scared. He was breathing fast and hard and he was feeling dizzy and sick. 

They were getting closer, moving down the incline easily. He didn’t understand. Why? What did they want? Why would they do this? What were they going to do with him? To him?

It was getting harder to breathe. All he could taste in his mouth and smell in his nose was the food from the cooler and his mum’s perfume and blood. His hand was inching toward the handle. He didn’t know if he should try to get out of the car. What good would it do? But he didn’t know if he could just wait here while they came for him. He was breathing faster and he was seeing spots. He blinked and then rubbed at his eyes trying to get rid of them but they wouldn't go away and the Wraith were getting closer and once they found him they’d - 

A dark shape blurred past the Wraith and suddenly there was only one standing there where there had been two. 

And there was screaming. 

Ear splitting, horrible screaming. What was that? Was that the Wraith? Was it something else? Meredith pushed himself harder in the foot well, not caring that it made his back and his ribs hurt, not caring that it made it harder to breathe. The Wraith that was left was crouching down, looking around, hissing and spitting. It was close enough for Meredith to hear it through the broken driver side window. 

The terrible screaming stopped and the Wraith he could see spit three times on the ground and then tipped its head back and started making the same screaming sound that must have been coming from the other Wraith, the one that was gone. 

The dark blur was back and something flashed in front of the Wraith and then the Wraith fell forward. 

And it’s head fell off to the side. Unattached. Black pooling from the neck. 

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t. He wanted to curl up next to his mum even though she was… she was… His head hurt and he was crying and something awful was out there, something terrible. Something that killed Wraith and made them scream, cut of their heads and left them on the dirt. 

There was a wrenching sound and suddenly the door handle was no longer under his fingers and he looked and the entire door had been ripped away, gone. There was only empty space… and the shape of a man standing there. He jammed himself hard into the hovel of the floor well and it hurt and he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he just wanted to get away. 

“Meredith?”

The man crouched down and even though it was dark, there were still the truck lights from above shining down. Meredith could see messy hair and green eyes and then a hand was reaching out for him. 

“Shhhh, shhh. You’ve got to breathe, Meredith. In and then out.”

That made no sense, he was in a car, at the bottom of a hill and his mum, his mum… He could hardly see anymore, it was all going black around the edges, dark and swirly. 

Then a hand touched his knee and it felt like something in his chest loosened and he could breathe a bit more and he sucked in a big breath and when he let it out, he cried a bit. 

“Shh, shh. Okay, Meredith, okay.”

He felt hands grab him but it didn’t hurt and they pulled him out of the car. It hurt when he moved, but not from the grabbing. In his ribs and his head. He was crying. The hands pulled him close and he felt safe and it was warm but that made him cry more. He could smell soap and the outdoorsy scent and he knew that smell and he remembered it and the spiky hair and the voice. 

And his eyes.

John. That was John. 

He knew John and he was John’s Chosen and that meant that he would take care of Meredith. John knew Teyla and Ronon and he’d met Meredith’s mum and mum knew him and…

“My mum is, my mum is,” he tried to say it and he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say the words. 

“I know, buddy. I know.”

They were moving, moving up the hill past the dead Wraith and Meredith turned his face into John’s neck and didn’t look. He didn’t want to look at the car either. He wanted to tell John they couldn’t leave his mum, they couldn’t just leave her there but he was crying and he couldn’t think right.

“And I was th-thinking for you to c-c-come f-f-find us b-b-but we c-c-crashed.”

“I found you. I found you, Meredith.”

“I hit m-m-my head and it hurts.”

“Shh, I’ve got you now.”

“My mum b-b-bought me a shirt and it’s in the c-c-c-car.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

He shook his head, rubbing his face against John’s shirt. It was soft and smelled like clean laundry. “N-n-no.”

“No? You don’t want me to get it?”

He started crying harder and couldn’t say it again, just shook his head against John’s shirt and his head hurt and his chest hurt. He didn’t want that shirt. It was in the car with his mum and there’d been blood on it and water from the cooler. 

She bought it for him and now it was ruined. 

“Thank the Ancestors, you found him.”

That was Teyla’s voice. Teyla was here. He felt her hand on the back of his head. He wanted to see her but he didn’t want to look in case he saw… in case he saw….

“How is he?”

Ronon. Ronon and Teyla. But it didn’t matter because nobody could help his mum, nobody could help her and she was down there in the car and her outfit was getting all wrinkled - and it was getting hard to breathe again and there wasn’t enough air-

“Shh, Meredith. Sleep, sleep.” 

John’s voice was right next to his hear, soft and low. Meredith was tired, he was so tired and John’s voice made him sleepy. 

“That’s it, Meredith, go to sleep. Go to sleep. I’ve got you. Sleep, Meredith, sleep.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this time. I'm still working away at the story. It's coming slow!

He woke up and immediately recognized he was in a hospital. It smelled like cleaner and sick people and his bed was tilted up at a funny angle. It was dark in the room except for a light coming from the bathroom. 

“Meredith.”

He looked over and saw Teyla sitting in a chair next to his bed. She put one of her hands on top of his and he wanted to start crying but didn't know why. 

Then he remembered why and he did start crying. And it didn’t matter that she was Teyla and he loved her, when she leaned over and put her arms around him he turned away and wished she was his mum. But he wasn’t ever going to get his mum again and it was awful and it hurt. She petted his hair and rubbed his back and even though it felt kind of nice, it made it hurt worse too. She started singing and she wasn’t off key like his mum and he wished she was. She rubbed his back and his chest still really hurt and the pillow smelled funny. He was so tired. Even though he’d just woken up, he was so tired. His breath was hitching and his nose was running into the pillow and it was wet and he didn’t care. She rolled him over to face her and pushed his sweaty hair off his forehead and wiped his face off with a tissue. Teyla kept singing and rubbing his back and he could feel himself falling back asleep.

He was almost asleep - he could hardly see out of his eyes - when the door opened and Ronon came back in. 

“How’s he doing?”

Teyla kept pushing his hair off his face, just like his mum did when he was sick and it was nice. “He’s just about to fall asleep again. He’s listening to us.”

Ronon made a noise. “He’s always listening. His brain doesn’t turn off.”

“No, it does not,” Teyla said and though his eyes were almost closed, he could still see her smile at him. He let his eyes closed even though he was still a little awake. He liked hearing Teyla and Ronon talk. 

But they didn’t say anything else - there was just the sounds of chairs being moved around. He was falling asleep but sometimes it took a little bit for his brain to catch up and realize his body was sleeping. 

He didn't know how much later it was when he heard them talking. Maybe minutes or maybe he’d slept and woken up again. He couldn’t be sure. 

“How is John?” Teyla asked. 

“Pissed. Last I heard he’d broken four Wraith and killed two more. He was off to meet some G’ould next. Thought there might be some info there.”

“If he’s not careful, he’s going to start a war.”

“They started it first.”

“Hmmm. It’s unlikely that John will find any evidence linking this to Todd.”

“Doesn’t matter if he does or not. We all know it.”

“That may be the case, but without evidence we will be hard pressed to have other Kindred on our side.” Teyla’s voice was low and calm but Meredith knew that tone. She’d used it on him a couple of times and it meant she was serious. 

“Maybe. But maybe it will scare Todd enough to keep his distance. Or we could just kill him.”

“The death of a Wraith of Todd’s stature would be a clear declaration of war. Ronon, you know this.” 

Ronon made a low kind of sound, almost like a growl.

“Perhaps John would like to stop by and check in on Meredith. I know he wishes to keep his distance but at this point I think it may calm him. Especially while Meredith is calm himself.”

“Maybe,” said Ronon. “He blames himself. Figures if he hadn’t worked so hard on keeping away from him, they wouldn’t have thought they had a chance.”

Teyla made a ‘hmmm’ sound again. “I shall try to speak with him.”

“Yeah. You might wanna wait till he’s done tearing other Kindred’s heads off before you do that.”

He dozed off again and the next time he woke up there was sun coming in one of the windows and it was morning. Teyla had one of the nurses bring him some breakfast and even though he didn’t feel like it at all, he was trying to eat a piece of dry toast and drink some peach juice that Ronon had gone out and got special for him. 

When the door to his room burst open, he flinched and dropped his toast and his glass. The glass fell off the bed and onto the floor breaking, spilling juice everywhere. 

“Oh Meredith!”

It was his Grandmother. 

He turned to Teyla. “I’m sorry about the juice.”

“It’s all right, Meredith, we shall have someone clean it up.”

“Meredith, are you all right?” Grandmother said over top of Teyla. He hadn’t seen her in a long time but she looked the same, just older. Her hair was still pointy and weird, and she wore dark lipstick that matched her nails. She came over to the other side of Meredith’s bed and he could smell the awful flower smell right away. She started pushing his hair around and it wasn’t at all like when Teyla or mum did it. She had long nails and she hit his bandage on his head and he jerked away from her. 

“Oh you poor thing. It’s all over the news. The accident, the pictures of the car and all the glass and all that blood!”

“Beatrice!” Teyla said sharply and she reached out and grabbed his Grandmother’s wrist and pulled her away from Meredith. 

“Don’t put your hands on me. I’ve every right to be here. I’m his Grandmother and God knows if his father were alive I would have never been shut out by that… that… woman.”

Meredith knew she was talking about his mum and it made him mad. “Mum doesn’t like you and I don’t like you either,” he exclaimed. 

“Meredith, you must be very tired and likely traumatized from the accident. But rest assured, things will be fine. You’ll come to live with me now.”

“Beatrice, arrangements are already being made for Meredith,” Teyla said calmly and that made him feel much better. Teyla and Ronon would take care of it. He knew it. 

“Nonsense, he’s my grandson. He belongs with me.”

“Meredith is _John’s_ ,” Teyla said fiercely. “The _daeyevek_ is his family now as is the rest of the clan.”

“But I’m his… that woman kept me from him!”

“And I thank the _Daeyevek_ for it,” Teyla replied. Meredith had never seen her so angry. 

“But… but… where is he going?”

Frankly, Meredith didn’t care as long as it wasn’t with her. 

“That is none of your concern. And now you will leave.”

She was still sputtering and protesting as Teyla pushed her out the door. Teyla called to the desk to have someone bring a cleaning crew and in minutes the juice and glass were cleaned up. 

He didn’t feel like the toast anymore. 

“Teyla? Where am I going to live now?” he asked. 

She put his hand on his and squeezed his fingers. “You shall be coming to John’s house, the estate. Do you remember? Where we had your dedication?”

Ugh. The big old house. 

“I can’t… I mean, what about my house?” he said, thinking of where he and his mum lived. 

Where she had lived. All his stuff was there - his books and posters and his games. And mum’s clothes and her perfume bottle, the one she kept way in the back of her dresser so it wouldn’t fall and break. He wanted to cry again. 

“I’m sorry, Meredith, we think it’s better for you to live with us. Closer to John.”

He swallowed. “Were the Wraith trying to hurt me? Is that why… why mum and I…” He couldn’t finish. 

“John will take care of it. Please eat some more of your toast and I will call Ronon and ask him to bring another glass of juice.”

The toast was dry and hard to swallow but at least when he was concentrating on that, he didn’t think about anything else.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reader, we now join Rodney at the age of 17...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should have a voice over like a soap opera - "Previously on "I'll Tell Them My Religion's You..."
> 
> Also, please note, this entire thing is unbeta'd. not just this chapter, like all of it. if you see something that is driving you crazy and should be fixed, let me know.

_Five years later._

“This is a horrible idea and we’re going to get killed.”

“You’re such a candy ass, Radek,” said Rodney, not looking behind him where Radek was crouched. His body was plastered against the stone wall, still warm from the sun that day. 

“Not all of us are the Chosen of the most powerful vampire in Atlantis,” hissed Radek. “I will go to jail for certain. You? You will go to bed without dinner, that is all.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah. I’m the luckiest bastard alive, being Chosen,” he whispered sarcastically. 

He _hated_ being Chosen. 

It was the worse thing that had ever happened to him. It sucked. Tutors since he was little, no chance to go to school or go anywhere or do anything. Always having to learn what they taught him and nothing else. 

Then his mother… 

And now, living in the big house, being watched all the time. Still having to take his studies and his lessons. Never being allowed _out_ unless he was ‘supervised’ - Ronon and Teyla going with him wherever he went. 

Except now. 

It hadn’t been easy breaking out but then again, he _was_ a genius. He’d bypassed the security system and the cameras, _and_ figured out the timing of the guards so he could bust out and then coerce Radek to bust out of his house. 

He was _free_. God, it was such a rush. No one knew where he was right now, no one was following him, no one was watching him or telling him to mind his mouth. 

Except Radek. But he didn’t count. 

He’d finally _finally_ been allowed to join something with people his own age and he’d picked the Robot Club on the high school campus. That’s where he’d met Radek. Radek was the only one that wasn’t fazed by Rodney being Chosen. 

He was from Czechoslovakia or something like that and their Kindred had died off long ago and so he didn’t really care much for Kindred politics. 

Plus, (and he would _never_ say this out loud, not even under duress) Radek was smart. 

Not as smart as Rodney, but smart enough to mostly keep up with him. Their robot had smoked the competition at the contest, battering all the other ones to dust or breaking them in half with its laser. 

They were the only ones with a laser. 

So fucking cool. 

And then Teyla and Ronon acted like he should be all fucking grateful when Teyla said “And the _daeyevek_ has said you may keep the winnings from the contest. Buy whatever you like.”

Fucker. It was _his money_. Well, his and Radek’s, split 50/50. But he was supposed to be thankful to that vampire bastard for letting him keep it? He’d like to tell him to fuck right off and tell him to put his _title_ in a really inconvenient place. 

But that would mean he’d have to see the bastard first. 

He hadn’t seen him since… well, not for a fucking long time, that’s for sure. 

And it wasn’t like he even wanted to see him. 

But you know what? Living in that fucker’s house, being confined mostly to his goddamned estate and being surrounded by his sycophants, Rodney thought maybe that jerk would _deign_ to show himself once in a while. 

But it wasn’t like he cared. 

He didn’t care if he ever saw John Sheppard again. 

Definitely not. 

He shook his head and focused on the remote control for his robot. Well, his and Radek’s robot. This was the delicate part of the break in - getting the robot to unlock the door.

Using a robot to break into a Radio Shack? The irony was _delicious_. 

He knew he was a nerd. So what? He liked it. He liked being smarter than everyone. He liked doing things that were hard and intricate. As soon as their robot, Sputnik, had won the competition, Rodney had immediately declared to Radek that they were souping him up and taking him to the big leagues. 

Sure, Radek protested, but c’mon, they were totally token protests. He still helped Rodney fit Sputnik with a camera, infrared and smaller, more functional pieces for the planned break in. 

It was Radek’s weakness. He couldn’t say no to the tech. He had no interest in breaking into the Radio Shack, but he sure as shit wanted to build a robot that _could_. 

Rodney frowned watching as Sputnik managed to get the door unlocked and partially pushed open but then spun in a little bit of a lazy circle outside the store. Goddamn battery pack. He knew it had a short. Fuck. He twisted the controls a bit harder as if it would help Sputnik along. Sputnik spun in another lazy circle and then stopped. 

“What is wrong?” asked Radek, peering over Rodney’s shoulders and seeing Sputnik silent and still in the street light in front of the Radio Shack.

“I bet it’s his battery pack again,” muttered Rodney, trying to will the little robot to life with his mind. 

“Batteries were new. Must be the converter. We should have waited until we had better parts.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “We’re trying to _steal_ the parts, you moron.”

Radek huffed. “Do not take that tone with me. We have the money from the contest. We could have bought the parts.”

Rodney turned back to the controls, whacking it with the back of his hand. “Why pay for it when you can steal it?” he asked. “Fuck. Okay. Wait here, I’m going to see if I can jerry rig his battery pack.”

“Rodney!” Radek hissed as Rodney shoved the controls at him. 

“Just stay here!” Rodney hissed back. “Don’t fuck this up, Radek.”

He crouched down low and crab walked across the street. As soon as he got to Sputnik, he flipped the robot on his back and its wheels gave a sad little whir. He could just go into the store and steal what he needed but where was the glory? No, he was going fix Sputnik up, get him going and then have the little robot get the parts they needed.

He only wished he could be there to watch them review the CCTV coverage of the robbery. He almost giggled in glee. 

“What’s the problem, Sput?” he murmured to himself, pulling his small tool kit out of his back pocket and using it to take off the base plate. He took a small flashlight out and held it between his teeth as he worked. He gave a small grunt of triumph as he located the short and wired around it, using a piece of copper wire from his kit and some gum from his pocket. It was a patch job but it should hold. He heard a hissing sound and then a strange whistle and looked up, squinting in the dark. He could vaguely make out the jumping and frantic shape of Radek doing… something. What the fuck. Honestly, did Rodney have to do everything himself? He was just screwing Sput’s plate back on when he heard the footsteps behind him and the click of a gun. 

“Hold it right there.”

He turned around and looked up at the two police officers staring down at him. He took the flashlight out of his mouth and stood. 

“Don’t move,” one of them said, training his gun on Rodney. 

Rodney smirked and held his hands up. “Problem officers?”

The officer’s looked from him to the open door of the Radio Shack and then back to him. 

“I swear, I found it like that,” Rodney said, still smirking. 

“You’re gonna have to come downtown with us, kid.”

Rodney hoped Radek had the common sense God gave a horse and got the fuck out of dodge. 

“You know, I’d love to, but I probably should call me keeper first, let him know where I am.”

“We’ll call your parents when we get down to the station,” one of the cops said, holstering his gun and stepping forward, grabbing Rodney by the upper arm. 

“Careful, boys, he doesn’t like it when I’m marked up,” Rodney said cheekily, letting himself be manhandled down the street to the black and white police car around the corner. 

“So what was it? Alarm? Someone spot me? Just in the neighborhood?” he asked. “Really, I wanna know.” 

He did want to know. 

So he could avoid it next time. 

“Apartment building across the street called it in,” said one of the cops. The second cop shot him a look. “What? What’s it matter if we tell him?”

The second cop, the stick in the mud, opened the back seat of the cruiser and placed his hand on Rodney’s head to keep it from getting hit as he stuffed him inside. As the cops got in the front seat, Stick-in-the-Mud turned around to face him. 

“How old are you, kid?”

“Seventeen,” Rodney said with a grin. “Why? You interested?” he teased, jutting his chin out and batting his eyelashes a bit. “I’ll be eighteen in three months. Think you can wait?”

Stick-in-the-Mud pursed his lips distastefully. “We’re gonna have to call your parents.”

“Good luck with that. They’re dead.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“I take care of myself.”

Stick-in-the-Mud huffed. “Name?” he asked, his tone shifting to bored as he pulled out his little cop notebook. 

“Rodney. Rodney McKay.”

He fucking hated his first name. Who the hell names a boy Meredith anyway? He never used it anymore. Not since he was watching some tv show when he was fourteen and the lead character, the _girl_ had been named Meredith. As soon as he was eighteen and could file the paperwork himself, he was getting it changed. He was thinking about William for William Fowler who’d won the Nobel in 1983. Rodney William McKay. It didn’t sound too bad. 

“Address?”

Rodney hesitated and then grit his teeth. “Fourteen-twelve Ancient Hollow Road.”

The driver snorted and Stick-in-the-Mud turned around and glared at Rodney through the grate. “Don’t be a smart ass kid, you’re in enough trouble already.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Stick-in-the-Mud raised an eyebrow. “You know damn well that address is the estate of _daeyevek_.”

Rodney’s lips quirked. “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”


	6. Chapter 6

The cops had been disgusted and annoyed with him in the squad car. They’d told him there was no point lying. Once they got to the station, they’d find out who he was and where he lived easily enough. 

They’d tossed him in a holding cell, Stick in the Mud smirking and saying something about how maybe some time in good old g-pop (otherwise known as general population) would straighten Rodney out. 

Rodney looked around at the handful of hookers, junkies, drunks and disorderlies that were in the holding cell already and tried not to think about how completely unsanitary the entire cell was. He put his considerable brain to use immediately, sizing up the population and figuring out the best way to stay safe. He immediately affected a slight sniffle, widened his eyes and made his lower lip tremble a bit. One of the female hookers perked up a bit and said, “Oh, honey. First time in the clink?”

He tried not to smile in satisfaction even as he nodded a little sadly and sniffed once more for good measure. 

When Stick in the Mud came back to get him twenty minutes later (apologizing profusely and swearing on a stack of bibles that if he’d _known_ Rodney was telling the truth he never would have put him in general population), Marla had draped her faux fur coat over his shoulders and Stefanya (who was Stefan when he wasn’t on the streets) was explaining to him exactly how much money he could make on the streets with ‘that fine ass of his.’

Rodney’s ass really was amazing. 

It’s not like he didn’t already know. 

Stefanya gave him a kiss on the cheek and Marla slapped his ass while Stick in the Mud looked positively ill. Both ‘girls’ made him promise that if he ever found himself in g-pop again, he could use either one of them for his phone call. 

They really were kind of sweet, thought Rodney. Although, he was still going to take a decontamination shower when he got home, make no mistake about it. 

Stick in the Mud placed a hand oh-so-carefully on Rodney’s elbow and steered him back to the main entranceway and then asked him if he would ‘please have a seat on the bench’ and then offered him a beverage. 

Rodney glared at him and sat down without a word. 

He thought he saw a little bead of sweat trickle down the cops face. 

Ten minutes later, Rodney heard the outer doors to the station burst open and he felt his heart and stomach clench a little in excitement. Or maybe fear. But mostly excitement. 

When Ronon stormed in with Teyla right behind him, he told himself that it wasn’t disappointment that made him slouch back down on the bench. 

“Meredith,” Ronon growled. 

Rodney didn’t look up. He didn’t answer to that name anymore. He examined his nails. 

“Rodney,” Teyla intoned after a beat of silence, the displeasure in her town clear. 

He looked up and feigned surprise. “Oh, hey! Fancy meeting you guys here.”

Ronon clenched his jaw and stared hard at Rodney. Rodney stared back, chin jutting up. 

“Ronon, Rodney. I am going to speak to Officer Hale and sort this out.”

Ronon loomed over Rodney. “C’mon. Out to the car.”

Rodney made a production of standing up, brushing off his slacks and clasping his hands together. “Right,” he said loudly. “Well it’s been fun, everyone. First arrest and all. Thank you all for the hospitality.” He gave a cheery wave even as Ronon grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him through the front doors. 

Ronon set a quick, brutal pace back to the car - a dark sedan - parked illegally in front of the station. 

“If you want to act like a child, maybe I should put you over my knee and spank you like one,” Ronon growled. 

“Kinky,” Rodney snapped back quickly. “Never would have pegged you for the type but you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones.”

Ronon opened the back seat and tossed him in. 

He wasn’t nearly as careful as the cops had been. Ronon got in the passenger side and turned around once to glare at Rodney. He didn’t say a word for the full ten minutes it took for Teyla to come out of the station and get behind the driver’s seat. She glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes meeting Rodney’s. 

“I don’t suppose they mentioned what happened to my robot?” Rodney asked, his tone light and easy. 

Teyla turned the key in the ignition and started the drive home. They were five minutes into the drive when she started speaking. 

“What were you thinking?”

“Ugh, noooooo,” groaned Rodney, falling over onto his side on the backseat with a dramatic flourish. “Not in the car where I can’t escape.”

“Do not try my patience, Rodney. What on earth possessed you to break into that store?”

“I wanted stuff from it,” he said with a surly tone. He pulled himself back up right and leaned his head against the window. 

“You had money. You could have purchased what you wanted.”

He shrugged one shoulder carelessly, staring out the window at the darkened night. He could make out part of his own reflection in the glass - his light blond hair, pale eyes and slightly crooked mouth. 

“Do you think this is some sort of a game? Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be out on your own? Do you know what could have happened to you?” Teyla said, her voice sharp like daggers. 

“Whatever,” he muttered. 

Ronon turned in his seat. “Don’t be sullen or dismissive. You know exactly what you did tonight was wrong. You did it because it was wrong. Because it was dangerous.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the window at the landscape going past. 

“You are lucky the police found you first before-”

“Before any opportunistic Wraith?” Rodney asked, a slight sneer in his tone. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Teyla glance at him in the rearview mirror. He didn’t look up. 

“Exactly. This is quite serious, Rodney.”

“I know,” Rodney shot back. “I was there when my mother died.”

A tense silence descended over the inside of the car and nothing was said for a few minutes. Rodney watched the streets change from the downtown city landscape, to the less crowded suburban roads to finally the populace-barren scenery that meant they were nearing the estate. 

It was Teyla, of course, who finally breached the silence. 

“The _daeyevek_ was quite worried about you,” she said quietly. 

Rodney snorted and started talking before he could stop. “Well if _John_ ,” he sneered, using the _daeyevek’s_ name, “was so concerned then why didn’t come himself?”

He immediately wanted to snatch the words back. He didn’t care that John - that the _daeyevek_ \- hadn’t come. 

“He is out of the country right now on business, but he wishes very much he could be here.”

Rodney managed to hold back his snort this time. It didn’t matter that John hadn’t come. 

It didn’t. 

It made no difference. He didn’t care if he never saw him again. Ever. 

The trouble with being so goddamned fucking smart was that you couldn’t even lie to yourself. 

He had to endure _the lecture_ when they got back to the estate. Teyla and Ronon sat him down in the library, _the library_ of all places and talked at him for an hour. 

He hated the fucking library and it’s stupid cedar chip smell that always reminded him of John. He hated his olfactory memory and it’s goddamn association of cedar chips and John Sheppard. He blamed the fact that John always showed up during highly emotional and/or traumatic events in his life. Near drowning, his dedication. 

The death of his mother. 

It had nothing at all do with the dreams he had of John. Dreams he’d been having since he hit puberty. Dreams with hands and lips and hazel eyes and stupid hair that’s impossibly soft and didn’t even exist in the real world. 

Probably. 

It was really fucking hard to concentrate on what Teyla and Ronon are saying in the library. 

Not like he needed to hear the words to get the gist. Teyla looked at him with disappointment clear on her face. Ronon wore a scowl that was pretty clear in its opinion that Rodney was a dumbass. Blah blah blah dangerous situation blah blah blah totally unnecessary blah blah blah foolish regard for your own safety. 

Blah blah blah. 

He stared at the horrendously expensive oriental carpet the whole time. For years he’d been trying to figure out the cartesian equation for the pattern that bloomed across the dark rug in greens, reds and purples but he’d never quite been able to figure out the little bits in the corners. They were maddening. He’d tried to cull them out of the set and look at the rest of the rug as a whole, but still couldn’t make it work. 

He tuned back in when Teyla’s tone sounded like she was wrapping it up. 

“I believe the appropriate term is ‘grounded,’” she was saying. 

“What?” he asked. He hadn’t really been listening so he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about. 

“You are grounded. For one month,” she repeated, looking sternly at him. He glanced over at Ronon who stood there with his arms crossed over his chest looking grim and foreboding. 

“And how is this different from my regular life of incarceration?” Rodney snarked. 

Teyla raised an eyebrow at him. “I believe I made the terms quite clear.”

So he maybe should have been listening. But it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. 

“Fine,” Rodney huffed. 

Teyla looked at him meaningfully. 

“What?”

“Your room, Rodney. Go.” She pointed toward the door. 

He sighed loudly and stomped out of the room, pausing at the door. “It doesn’t mater if I’m grounded or not. This whole place is just a very elaborate imprisonment facility anyway. Three hots and a cot. It’s not like it’s my _home_ or anything.”

He stormed up the stairs to his room and kicked the door shut.

The smell of cedar chips must be stuck in his nostrils because he could still smell it, even now in his room. He didn’t bother with the lights as he stripped off his clothes, down to his boxers and face planted on his bed. 

He hoped Radek made it home okay. 

And had Sputnik with him. But even if he didn’t, Rodney was pretty sure he could build the entire robot over again from scratch. 

He would need to buy a few extra parts, thought. Fuuuuuuck. He probably wouldn’t even be able to go to the electronics store while he was grounded. 

He sighed, inhaling deep. 

That stupid woodsy smell was on his pillow. 

He hated it. 

He kept telling himself that even as he breathed deeply and felt his dick twitch. But he was seventeen. Watching paint dry could make his dick twitch. 

Nope. Still not successfully lying to himself. 

It didn’t matter, or at least, he pushed it far enough out of his mind as he stayed on his stomach and thrust his hand under his stomach, trailing it down past the waistband of his boxers and against his dick. He canted his hips up slightly, giving himself some room to work. His dick was already half hard and it only took a few dry pulls to bring it to full mast. He groaned deep in the back of his throat, sighing at the feeling. He pulled his knees up under him a bit more, which forced his ass into the air. In a teenage lust driven flurry, he shoved his boxers off and managed to grab his hand lotion from his nightstand at the same time, before flopping over again onto his knees, ass up, the cool air of his room illicit and thrilling on his bare skin. He slicked up his hand and slid it over his cock, hissing at the touch of the cold lotion against his hot skin. He knew what he must look like, ass up in the air, knees braced wide, jacking himself off, face pushed into the pillow. He tried to shut his brain off, just for the few more pulls it would take until he was completely in _that place_. That place where he didn’t feel shame about what he was imagining or fantasizing. That heady, drunkenly sexed up haze where he imagined that John would slip into his room, see him spread out on his bed, see his firm ass up in the air and wouldn’t say anything. He’d come forward, press himself against Rodney and he would be hot and strong and Rodney would gasp in surprise but also in relief. 

Rodney curled his fingers into a semi-tight fist around his cock, just a little too snug and _oh_ there it was, that place. He could almost feel the click as his brain slid from its higher cerebral functions to the lower, baser slot where he just didn’t _care_. He didn’t care that he’d never even seen John since the night his mother died. He could still remember the solid strength of him, interpreted by his teenage brain so differently now. The smell of the skin of his neck which had been so comforting then, brought on a completely different feeling now. He pushed his face harder into the pillow, seeking out the cedar scent that he claimed to hate while his higher brain was in charge. He could hear his breath coming in gasps and he rocked his hips, fucking into his fist even as he circled and pulled at it with his fingers. He imagined if John were here, he’d have his hands on Rodney’s hips, he’d grip them hard, hard enough to leave marks. He’d be hard himself and he’d unzip his pants, pull out his dick and press his erection against Rodney’s ass. Rodney whined in the back of his throat, hips move jerkily, fist pumping faster. Oh god he was so close, so close. He wanted to stay right _here_ right on the edge of almost coming, didn’t want it to end, but he needed, oh fuck, he needed it. 

He bit down hard on his lip, grunting in pleasure as he _twisted_ his hand just right and felt his balls, tight and heavy with need, curl up against his body and then he gasped and came. 

”John.”

It was closer to a sob than a sigh and he repeated the name a few more times as he stroked his overly sensitive flesh, panting for oxygen. 

As he started coming down from the high, he didn’t feel illicit or secret anymore with his ass in the air. He felt lonely and alone, his chest achy. He squeezed his eyes shut and groped for his boxers, at the end of the bed, using them to wipe off his hand and his crotch and paw at the mess on his sheets. His brain kicked back in and he felt needy and stupid and he’d have to do laundry tomorrow. 

He flipped over onto his back, rolling away from the wet spot he’d made and pushed his hair out off his face with his clean hand. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, blinking away at the sting in his eyes. It didn’t matter, it didn’t fucking matter. He punched the mattress beside his thigh, making the bed jiggle slightly. He could feel the warm, solid weight of the ammonite necklace, around his neck at his collar bone. Like he had a million times before, he reached up, intent on ripping it off and tossing it away. 

His fingers gripped the the chain, twisting it around his fingers, feeling it dig into his flesh painfully and… 

Couldn’t make himself do it. 

He thought about not having it anymore, about not feeling its familiar weight against his skin, always warm. After his mother died, it had been the only thing that made him feel safe, at night, newly moved into the estate, the house big and dark, its late night sounds unfamiliar and scary. 

But when he’d held the ammonite in his fist, he’d felt better. Safe. He’d remember how he’d been scared and he’d needed John and he called for him and John came. 

He came. 

It had been too late for his mum, but John had found him and killed the Wraith that had been there. 

Now, years later, even though he purported to hate John, hate the house, hate being Chosen, hate everything about it, he still couldn’t bring himself to pull the necklace off and throw it away. 

Once again, like he did when he was younger, he closed his eyes with his fingers curled around the heavy charm, feeling the shape of it curve into his palm. 

He slept.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally John and Rodney together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, have I mentioned this is unbeta'd? Well it is. Also! I'm away next week and can't post! So next Sunday there will be no update. I hope you'll take this longer installment as my apology for that!

It’s not like turning eighteen was a big deal or anything. In fact when he thought about it, astronomically, it really didn’t mean anything. So you were still alive after the earth had gone around the sun eighteen times, so what? It’s not like he, personally, had anything to do with his continued survival other than avoiding citrus and not getting hit by a bus. 

The bus thing really wasn’t anything to do with him either since he wasn’t allowed off the estate by himself. 

He couldn’t have a big bash or a fantastic shin-dig. He didn’t _know_ anybody. Except Radek. And Teyla and Ronon but he wasn’t about to invite them to a birthday party, even if he wanted one. 

Which he didn’t. 

He did invite Radek over for pizza and video games, but that was hardly a birthday party and more just like a regular Friday night. Except Ronon brought them a six pack of beer, plopping it down next to the pizza. Radek’s eyes had just about bugged out and he’d repeated ‘thank you’ about six or seven times. 

Rodney managed to mutter a thanks, stealing a glance up at Ronon who nodded once with a satisfied smirk and then left them in Rodney’s game room. 

Teyla and Ronon had been by earlier in the day hooking up a new TV, VCR and some Nintendo games. It was pretty cool. Some of them were kind of lame and he and Radek had already hacked into the code with his Macintosh and beat them, but he liked Donkey Kong 3. 

Radek didn’t have a lot of money but he worked part time at a fast food joint that was right behind a computing store and he had trolled through bins to find working motherboards, sound boards, ram chips and some other odds and ends and was going to help Rodney build a his own computer with it all. 

It was pretty much the coolest gift ever because it had so much _potential_. 

He’d only been grounded for the one month, but like he’d figured, it wasn’t like he could really tell when his grounding was over. His life was pretty much the same no matter if he was grounded or not. 

Although he was already planning his next break out. 

“You are crazy,” Radek said after Rodney told him about his latest plan. Radek didn’t look over at him as he played Super Mario Bros. He jumped over a few goombas and then entered a pipe, taking a moment to fold up a piece of pizza, stuff the whole thing in his mouth and then wash it down with a swig of beer. He had the controller back in his greasy hands before Mario made it down to the underworld. “Did you not learn anything last time? You were caught?”

“So what?” Rodney said with a shrug, his Luigi character coming behind Radek’s Mario and taking care of some spare goombas. “I was grounded for like, a month. Whoopdee doo. Can you see me suffering? Cried into my pillow every fucking night. Except, wait. It was just like every other fucking day.”

“The _daeyevek_ has been very good to you, Rodney. You should be grateful. You have all you can ask for.”

Rodney snorted. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him. Oh, wait,” he said again, and then turned to look at Radek pointedly. 

“Yes, you must hate him terribly. It is why you never take off that necklace.”

Rodney felt himself flush with indignant anger, knowing his fair skin was turning red.

Also knowing that Radek was totally right. 

“Shut up, Radek.”

Radek gave a careless shrug and then deftly steered his little Mario over two cliffs and past a herd of goombas. 

Rodney’s Luigi fell off the cliff. 

He tossed the control down in disgust. 

“He must care for you,” Radek continued. “You want for nothing.”

“Jesus have you been brainwashed by Teyla and Ronon? You sound just like them! He probably couldn't pick me out of a fucking line up. I haven’t seen him since I was _twelve_.”

Radek shrugged, not taking his eyes off the screen. “I have seen other Chosen. They are not as fortunate.”

“When? When have you seen other Chosen?” Rodney asked hotly. “At high school? The pep rallies?”

Radek was quiet for a moment and when he spoke his voice was quiet. “When I came to Atlantis, we came by boat. My parents and I. There was… an entourage of Kindred and some Chosen. They were Wraith and G’ould. Their Chosen…” Radek liked his lips nervously. “I didn’t recognize them at first, as passengers. I thought surely they must be sick refugees or perhaps they had been rescued from something. You hear stories, in the Republic, of gulags, or prisons. Places were governments hide the existence of people. Where they are sent to disappear. I thought perhaps these… people that I saw were from such a place. I said to my mother, ‘it is good, yes that they are now going to someplace better?’” Radek took a long swig of his beer and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. “She told me, ‘no, Radek, they are Chosen, they are with their Kindred, their masters. They are already where they will be.’”

Rodney was silent and he stared at the screen, watching the game continue on. He’d never seen other Chosen so he didn’t know things like that. Sure he heard snippets of things now and then, and there was that one conversation long ago between his mother and his grandmother. But he didn’t really know anything for certain. 

He huffed and took another slice of pizza. “Yeah, well a gilded cage is a still a cage,” he said sullenly. 

Radek shrugged. Which was probably his pansy ass way of saying he didn’t agree with Rodney, but whatever. 

“Look are you going to help me break into the observatory or not?”

That was Rodney’s big break out plan. To bust out of the mansion and somehow steal a car and make it to the observatory on the outside of town so that he could use the one of bowl dishes to run an experiment with radio waves and refraction. The observatory was going to be closed for the next two weeks while they upgraded one of their larger dishes, but one of their smaller, secondary dishes would still be available. 

“Why don’t you just ask Ronon and Teyla to see if they can set something up with the observatory? I’m sure for the Chosen of the _daeyevek-_ ”

“No,” Rodney said quickly. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to _ask_ them for _freedom_ when I should be granted it in the first place. And if I do, they’ll probably get some kind of proprietary rights over my work or something. No. Just no.”

Radek paused the game and stared at Rodney. 

“You will go without me if I say no, won’t you?”

Rodney’s chin went up. “Yes.”

Radek eyeballed him for a moment, taking another swig from his beer can. “All right.”

“Yes!”

“But only because you will either get yourself killed without me or make some horrifying breakthrough that will crack space time without me there to check your math.”

Rodney gave a squawk of outrage and then leaned over and socked Radek hard on the shoulder. Radek gave a pained ‘oof’ and then flicked Rodney hard on the ear with his thumb and forefinger. Rodney gave an indignant ‘hey!’ and then they knocked shoulders, trying to budge each other out of the way while they jockeyed for Radek’s Mario controller. 

All in all, it wasn’t too bad a birthday. 

***

Getting out of the estate was the hard part. There was always Ronon and Teyla, but there were also other guards too. His room was generally off limits. 

Generally. 

Except for that one time Radek managed to get some pot and they’d smoked up. Ronon had bust in and tossed the place looking for any more drugs. There hadn’t been anything to find. They’d only got the one joint. They’d been so high that watching Ronon trash the place had been hysterical and Teyla’s disapproving look had been even funnier. 

Of course when Teyla made him do extra stick fighting lessons and Ronon made him go for laps around the estate the next day it hadn’t been as funny. 

But all in all, totally worth it. 

Since his room was essentially off limits to the staff and the rest of the guards, it actually made it one of the easiest places to break out of. There were alarm sensors on the window but he managed to by-pass the new ones they’d put in after his last excursion out. 

He was a little worried about Radek. Under the lame pretense of ‘sleepover,’ (honestly, didn’t Teyla and Ronon think he was a bit old for that? He still couldn’t believe they fell for it), Radek was spending the night in his room. Rodney’d busted out of his room before, but last time Radek had met him outside the estate. This was the first time Radek had to make the short crab-walk across the sloped roof and then shimmy down one of the drain pipes. He had kind of a timid mouse look about him but he gritted his teeth and managed. It wasn’t glamorous and it wasn’t easy but they was young and both kind of lanky so it wasn’t too bad. 

They made it to the ground, each with a thud and Rodney straightened his backpack. He had all his notes and extra computer equipment with him and he really hoped he hadn’t forgotten anything. He’d probably be able to calculate out whatever he needed if he had forgotten something but it wasn’t like they had unlimited time at the observatory. Rodney figured it would take them forty minutes to bike to town (having left their bikes outside the estate), twenty minutes to boost a car (which Radek was ridiculously excited about having memorized all the auto-mechanics books he could), and then thirty minutes to drive to the observatory, three hours to set up and monitory the experiment and then they’d have to get back. 

He should be safely tucked back in bed by five am, just in time for Ronon to poke his head in on him before he went for his morning run. 

He had the guards’ schedule pretty well timed and memorized and it was just a matter of not freaking the fuck out and waiting when they needed to wait, running when they needed to run, and then getting themselves up and over the huge stone wall that surrounded the estate. 

They didn’t speak but communicated with a series of weird, science based hand-gestures built over the years of their friendship. 

Rodney kept looking around and even though he couldn’t see or hear anything, he kept getting the willies. He tried to shake it off as Radek didn’t seem to be getting freaked or anything. Ignoring it, they used the rope gear he’d found in the garden shed last week and had previously stashed close to the perimeter to rig themselves a quick and dirty pulley system, getting them hoisted to the top of the wall rather easily. 

Physics, bitches. 

He had a smile that felt like it could split his face by the time the dropped over the other side of the stone wall and hopped onto their bike, cycling away done the long road. 

When they were far enough away that he felt he could chance it, he let out a loud whoop of joy that was immediately followed by Radek’s guffawing laugh. 

They’d done it! They’d gotten out! It was practically a cake walk from here!

He still had a strange prickling sensation on his neck and shoulders and he rolled them a few times, thinking it was probably just tension or stress. 

They were puffing hard by the time they made it into town and they each popped a bottle of water from their backpacks to take long drinks. Rodney had packed snacks too in case they got hungry or bored waiting for the data to render at the observatory. They agreed to keep quiet while they locked their bikes up at 24 hour convenience store and then hustled off down a darker, less well lit street, hoping to find a car quickly. 

They hit the jackpot five minutes later. They found an older, kind of busted up civic that had been left unlocked. Radek quickly slid into the driver side and started breaking down the steering column to get at the wires inside. Rodney glanced around, a little wide eyed and then got in on the passenger side. He drummed his fingers nervously on the dash until Radek hissed his name and he stopped with a grimace. 

Another five minutes after that, Radek let out a startled shriek of happiness as the car engine burst to life and turned over. They started laughing as he put it in gear and pulled out onto the street. Rodney turned on the radio and turned it up _loud_ and they beat their hands against the wheel and the dashboard as they sped off into the night. 

It was a clear night, perfect for being at the observatory and collecting data. They drove fast down the highway road and Rodney rolled down the window and stuck his hand out, surfing it along the wind. 

They parked the car about half a mile from the observatory, going the rest of the way on foot. He got that weird, tingling feeling on his neck again and rubbed the back of it, dismissing it as nerves. 

They were quiet as they crept up to the wire gate of the observatory. Radek pulled his wire cutters out of his backpack and quickly made them a small pocket, low down on the ground where it hopefully wouldn’t be noticeable. They crawled through on their bellies and then crouch-ran over to the door. 

It only took Rodney about three minutes to break the alarm code and they were in. They had their eye out for security or secondary systems but apparently, even though there was thousands of dollars of equipment lying around, no one considered it a problem. 

Probably because it was all bolted down. 

Rodney jumped up and down on his toes. “Radek,” he whispered. “We’re in.”

He looked over and saw Radek grinning madly next to him, his hair a bit mussed and fuzzy from the exertion, his glasses slightly askew. Radek slipped his backpack off and reached in, pulling out a flask. Rodney felt a new-found appreciation for him as Radek spun the lid off and took a swig, handing it to Rodney. 

“For celebration,” Radek intoned, his voice rough from whatever was in the flask. Rodney took a whiff and his eyes immediately watered. Whatever it was, it was strong and it was fierce. Rodney took a fast belt, feeling it burn in his mouth and then down his esophagus, settling into his belly like a hot rock. 

“For science!” Rodney crowed. Although, Radek had been right. Rodney could have just asked Ronon and Teyla for a visit to the observatory. As the Chosen of the Daeyevek, Rodney would have surely been granted access. 

People fell all over their asses trying to gain favor with the Kindred. 

But that wasn’t the point! The point was Rodney should be allowed to go where he wanted and do the things he wanted to do. He didn’t want to be coddled and catered to. He didn’t want people pandering to him and fawning over him. They didn’t know him. They didn’t know a goddamn thing about him. It didn’t matter to them that he was _him_ , all that mattered was that he was Chosen. 

They didn’t see Rodney, they saw the Kindred standing behind him. Rodney wasn’t anybody’s trophy. 

Setting up the equipment for his experiment took focus and Rodney didn’t have time to be distracted by thoughts of Kindred or politics or John or whatever while he worked. He pushed everything to the back of his brain and focused on what he did best - work. 

Radek was a big help - he knew what he was doing and didn’t need his hand held. Rodney thought they worked well together. Radek just got things quickly and Rodney didn’t need to explain stuff over and over again.   
A sound just outside the door had them both raising their heads, like prairie dogs on a field - stock still, ears cocked listening. Their eyes met - both bright blue and wide. Were they caught? Was someone here? Were they about to be busted?

Nothing happened. After a few more tense moments, the adrenaline faded and they turned back to their work. Data started streaming in about five minutes later and Rodney couldn’t help but start pointing at the screen. 

“Look! Look!” he hit Radek on the shoulder. 

“Yes. It seems…”

“Like a consolidated data stream,” Rodney finished and then leaned forward, blue eyes narrowing. “But this is… Radek,” Rodney started snapping his fingers, “Recalibrate the-”

“Yes yes, am already on it. Point two-five should do it. Or perhaps--”

“-- maybe point two-six.”

“-- we cannot go much further without pushing the dish--”

“--out of range.” Rodney chewed on the cuticle of his right thumb. The data stream had started off nicely but had shifted partially, going out of sync. With Radek’s adjustment, it was back where Rodney wanted it.

Another sound from outside the door. A large, loud ‘thunk’ and then a scraping-dragging sound. Both Rodney and Radek hunched behind the large supercomputer, their faces illuminated by the tech in front of them. 

“Rodney, we should leave.” Only moments before Radek had nearly been shouting along with Rodney but now, he lowered his voice, barely audible. 

“What?” hissed Rodney. “The data is streaming. We can’t just quit now. It’s probably just …. The janitor. Or the heating vents.” 

Something hit the door and it buckled a bit and they both flinched. Whatever was out there, whatever had just happened it left a large dent in the metal. 

A dent that could be person-sized now that Rodney thought about it. 

“Radek,” Rodney warned. 

“Agreed.”

Moving in tandem they started grabbing their equipment as quickly as they could, stuffing it back into their knapsacks, not caring for cables getting tangled or disk getting slightly bent. It could all be sorted out at home. Radek reached for his flask, resting on the table and he knocked it over. He cursed in Czech, a sentiment Rodney wholeheartedly agreed with, and zipped his bag shut with a vengeance, leaving the flask where it lay, spilling moonshine over the observatory floor. 

Another thud against the door and Rodney’s eyes widened as he saw something start to ooze its way underneath the frame, where the metal didn’t quite reach the floor. 

Black. Black blood. Rodney’d seen blood that black before. He felt his chest tighten, crunching against his lungs, pressing inward and stealing all the space for air. He couldn’t look away from the spreading pool of darkness on the floor. He remembered his mother’s dress, she didn’t want it wrinkled. She never wore her seat belt because she didn’t want to wrinkle her dress. It was so stupid, so foolish. He’d known the physics behind wearing a seatbelt but he’d never said anything to her. Rodney shouldn’t have had to. She was his _mother_. She was supposed to know better. 

“Rodney, please!”

Rodney realized then that Zelenka had been pulling at his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt and trying to tug Rodney away. All the while, Rodney had been staring at the black ooze and thinking about his dead mother. 

Wraith. There were Wraith on the other side of the door. And Rodney should have known better, he really should have known better. 

The door gave a mighty creak and started swinging open. From the corner of his eye, Rodney could see Radek raise up his knapsack, like he could throw it, like it would do anything against a Wraith. Those tall, impossible monsters with their sharp teeth and pale hair. A shape was coming through the door - tall, slender - but in the half-light, Rodney couldn’t see what it was. Rodney looked down and without thinking, ripped the top of the console off, not caring if he was damaging it - there would be no point in trying to make it look like someone hadn’t broken in, not now with Wraith blood or guts or whatever spreading its thick way across the floor. He reached in a grabbed the first cable he saw that he thought might carry a current - any current - he wasn’t picky. He started trying to follow the cable through the console, his mind already figuring out where it ran through, how it connected to the power box and how he could get more current out of it - all he needed was thirty seconds. Radek could rewire the box, Rodney could tell him how. Thirty seconds. How fast did Wraith move? How much time did Rodney have?

“Hello, Meredith.”

Rodney stilled, hand clenching around the cable as the shape in the doorway finally came through the shadowed entry enough to be seen. Spiked dark hair, lean torso, glittering eyes that glowed slightly green in the ambient light. Rodney hadn’t seen him since he was twelve - since the day his mother died. Seeing John now was like a punch to the gut. At the estate, there were no photographs of John. No portraits, no pictures. Though it killed him to admit it, Rodney had looked. He’d gone through what few books in the library there were on Kindred as well and again - no pictures. John was very adept at staying out of the news. Some Kindred were on all the time. Mostly Goa-ould - they tended to like the spotlight and the grandeur. They were always on the news for one thing or another. Throwing a big party, attending celebrity functions, doing something completely inane that only famous people got photographed for. If there was an opening of an envelope, you could be a Goa’ould would be there. 

The Wraith were somewhat camera shy, but couldn’t really avoid being seen out in public because they’re appearances were so striking. With their long white hair and somewhat serpentine skin, it wasn’t as if they could walk around incognito. There were often tabloid shots of Wraith about or showing them having Hive meetings. Wraith never smiled. They never looked anything other than solemn and serious. Group shots tended to look like American Gothic Photography - staring eyes and soul-sucking glances. 

The Daeva, or Ancients, John’s clan, were sometimes photographed. Truth be told, they were the most photogenic. Daeva were the epitome of every romanticized view of Kindred. Beautiful, eternal, enigmatic. Ronon and Teyla were sometimes photographed around town and would show up in the papers but the media were fairly bored with them since they never seemed to do anything exotic or ‘Kindred’ enough. They tended to be like mortals - doing their shopping, meeting with friends or business acquaintances, coming too and from the estate. The paparazzi simply didn’t find them salacious enough. 

John was to the paparazzi and press as the holy grail was to academics. Everyone had theories about where to look, but everyone kept coming up empty. He seemed to elude the press easy enough, and if they did manage to get a shot of him, it was always blurry and out of focus, or off centered, showing only part of his face or maybe a spike or two of wayward hair. Rodney hadn’t seen a decent picture of John in… well, ever. Rodney’d told himself as he got older that he couldn’t possibly remember John correctly. He’d been a child - a child of five drowning, then a child of eight nervous for a ceremony and then a child of twelve with his mother having just …. 

Rodney swallowed. As the Daeyevek, John was apex of his clan. He was beautiful. Rodney had forgotten but it was true. John was beautiful 

And Rodney hated him. 

“Hello, John,” Rodney answered, putting as much disdain into the word as he could. At his side, Radek gasped, still holding the knapsack up high like he might launch it before dropping it to the ground. It landed with a crack and Rodney winced. 

Fuck. There went one of the motherboards. 

John was holding something in one of his hands. Something misshapen and dripping and… 

Wraith heads. Decapitated. The source of the black blood. It seemed as though John waited for Rodney to realize what he had before he tossed them down at Rodney and Radek’s feet. Radek hissed and flinched back. Rodney forced himself to stand still. 

“If you were looking to get me a gift, I would have preferred a new heat sink for my computer. It’s running a little hot ever since I upped the clock speed.”

“Those are in addition to the other four I killed outside the observatory,” John said, his voice eerily calm. “Wraith drones. Following you since you left the estate. You never even noticed them.”

Rodney swallowed hard. It was true. He hadn’t noticed them. He’d thought he and Radek had gotten away scott-free - so concerned with dodging the estate security systems that he may have, possibly, slightly made an error on the real reason they were there - to keep things _out_. Not necessarily to keep him in.

But he wasn’t about to admit that. Rodney shrugged a shoulder, feigning disinterest. “Seems like it all turned out okay.”

“Do you know what would have happened if they’d gotten to you before I took care of them?”

Rodney had never learned, had never _cared_ to learn what it was that made Kindred eyes glow slightly. John’s eyes didn’t glow radioactive yellow-green in the half-light - more like a deep mossy gold. Similar to an animal’s eyes at the right angle, it made it impossible for Rodney to see the irises, giving John a piercing gaze. Rodney ground his jaw. 

“Probably the same thing that happened to my mother,” Rodney said, spitting the words out. “They’d kill me before I knew they were there.”

“You’d be _lucky_ to be killed so quickly.” It was the first time that Rodney had heard John’s voice raised and he flinched at the sound, feeling the sound of John’s voice travel over him and making the hairs on his arm stand up. Rodney’s brain was perfect at coming up with a multitude of things the Wraith could have done to him before they killed him and it made Rodney shiver but he only jutted his chin out, refusing to cow. Rodney looked away from John, sullenly, staring at the ground off to the side. 

“ _Look at me_.”

John wasn’t shouting - he was using his Daeyevek voice - the voice that could compel people, things, other Kindred if John willed it hard enough. Rodney had never heard it before but unlike John’s eyes, he’d known enough about it to research it. Half-truths and urban legends were the most Rodney could find on it. John had never submitted to any scientific tests for it and the last Daeyevek, the one before John, had died out hundreds of years before acoustical science had gotten far enough in advancement to take any recordings or do any comprehensive analyses. History was rife of stories about the things daeyeveks could make, had made, people do. 

It didn’t work on Chosen. John knew that, Rodney supposed. Maybe John was trying to make a point, one that Rodney didn’t understand. Or maybe he was just angry and it came out. Rodney didn’t know. Out of the corner of Rodney’s eye, he could see Radek staring intently at John, taking small steps closer, as though he couldn’t help himself. He probably couldn’t. Rodney rolled his eyes and huffed. 

“Oh my God, if you’re going to bring out ‘the voice,’” Rodney made air quotes around the word, “at least let Radek wait outside. Your vulgar use of power is affecting his brain. I like that brain. I need that brain.” 

John inhaled loudly and then exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. His eyes seemed to glow a shade brighter for a moment and then dulled out a bit. “Radek,” he said sharply. “There is a car outside waiting to take you home.”

Radek nodded, scrambling for his knapsack on the floor. He picked it up and scurried toward the doorway, where John stood. 

“Thank you, Daeyevek. I am sorry for any disrespect.”

John finally broke Rodney’s stare, turning to Radek and saying lowly, “I interpreted no disrespect from you, Radek. Go home. Get some sleep.”

It wasn’t the Daeyevek voice but it was clear it was a command nonetheless. Radek nodded frantically, eyes darting once more toward Rodney as he mouthed the word, ‘sorry,’ before he scampered off. Rodney pursed his lips, watching Radek make his escape and he felt his chest tighten with anger. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair that Rodney couldn’t go places and do things. He wasn’t some kind of a possession to be kept in a house, locked up. He didn’t care about the politics or even the danger. 

Okay, that was an outright lie. He totally cared about the danger. What was he, stupid? He didn’t want to die some kind of horrible, painful death at the hands of the Wraith or the Goa’ould. But that didn’t mean he wanted to live in a cage either. Rodney felt stuck, trapped. Like a small insect in a pile of thickening molasses. 

“I place very few restrictions on you, Meredith-” John began. 

Rodney snorted in outrage, cutting him off. “The hell you don’t. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without someone following me or watching me.”

“It’s for your protection.”

“Protection I only need because of you!” Rodney exclaimed. God, he was infuriating. Rodney didn’t care if he was the most powerful Kindred in the area. He could bleed out and die of exsanguination for all Rodney cared. Kindred Dry they called it when one of them went like that - like it was some kind of specialty. 

“You are allowed to go anywhere you want,” John continued as though Rodney hadn’t spoken, “have your friends over, order anything you need.”

“I’m _not_ allowed to go wherever I want,” Rodney shot back. “I have to ask for permission and be followed everywhere I go.”

“And yet, I’ve never once said ‘no,’” John replied back. “As long as you are safe, you may go anywhere you wish. I have ensured that you are well-provided for.”

“Well-provided for,” Rodney sneered. “I’m not a pet! I’m not some cat you can just leave toys for around the house, hoping I’ll play with them when I get lonely or bored.”

John stared at him carefully and Rodney squirmed a bit under his gaze. “Is that what this is about? Are you lonely, Meredith?”

Rodney felt his stomach turn over at that. He wasn’t lonely. He was never alone so how could he be lonely? He had Ronon and Teyla and Radek. “Stop calling me that. I don’t even use that name anymore. But you’d have to be around to know that, wouldn’t you?”

When Kindred stood still, really still, it was like standing in front of a statue. John was that still now - perfect, pristine. If Rodney hadn’t just been talking to him, hadn’t just seen him saunter in and toss down two Wraith drone heads at Rodney’s feet, he would have thought John was a wax replica - like the ones they had in bigger cities for tourists. It was the only way some people ever got to see what Kindred looked like. 

Lucky bastards. 

“You didn’t answer me,” John said calmly. “Are you lonely?”

“No,” Rodney spat out, the word round and deep with his anger. 

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t you dare use your Kindred powers on me!” Rodney raged, taking a step forward and pointing his finger at John. “I may not be like you bloodsuckers but that doesn’t mean you can use your powers on me whenever.”

John didn’t move as Rodney raged forward, staying motionless in the face of Rodney’s wrath. “I’m not using my powers on you, Rodney,” John said, the first time he’d used Rodney’s preferred name. “But I can still tell you’re lying.”

Rodney swallowed. “So what if I am? Poor little Chosen boy is lonely. I’m sure you care so much you can’t sleep at all. You probably toss and turn inside your coffin all day long.”

“I don’t sleep in a coffin, Rodney, and you know full well that I’m a daywalker, like most Kindred.”

He made Rodney want to pull his hair out. Either John’s hair or his own, Rodney didn’t care. “Ugh, that’s not the point! You’re so frustrating! You don’t care about me or my feelings so stop pretending that you do. I’m just a thing to you - a possession. Something to be well-kept and maintained so it doesn’t lose value.”

It was John that stepped closer this time but Rodney didn’t back down, even though his heart thudded in… something. Fear? Anticipation? The simple proximity of John? Rodney ground his teeth together and stuck his jaw out, meeting John’s stare. Although it pained him to admit it, Rodney’d been waiting for years to see John again. Every award he won for his scholastics, he looked for John. At his piano examinations, he’d check for John’s presence. At birthdays, he’d wait, hoping that John would arrive. Rodney was loathe to admit it, but it felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for John and now that John was here, in front of Rodney, all Rodney wanted to do was rage against him - punch at him, kick him, slap him. Rodney had the feeling John would just take it. He would stand there, silent and unmoving while Rodney exorcised his rage and when Rodney was done, when he was spent and tired and empty of all his anger, John would still be there. The only constant that Rodney had in his life. 

“You are more than just a possession to me, Rodney. You are my Chosen.”

“I don’t even know what that _means_.”

John considered this for a moment, his head tipped off to the side slightly and then he nodded. “All right. Let’s work on that.”

Rodney eyed him warily. “What does that mean?”

“It means that if you stop acting like a child by continuing to sneak out, of the estate, with no protection, I will stop treating you like one and start treating like a proper Chosen.”

_Oh shit,_ thought Rodney. Was that what he wanted? He wanted to know more, he wanted to be treated like an adult. He _was_ an adult, wasn’t he? He was eighteen and knew more about the world than most people, didn’t that classify him as an adult?

Then why did he feel like he just stepped off the deep end?

“Isn’t that what you want?” asked John, voice quiet and low. 

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Rodney answered with a surety in his voice that he didn’t feel. But he couldn’t back down now. 

“Very well, then.” John gestured behind him, to the double doors he’d come through. There was still Wraith blood on his fingers and hands, almost glittering black in the half light. “Let’s go home, Rodney.”

Rodney didn’t miss the slight emphasis that John put on the word - _home_. Not the estate, not the manor, but home. Rodney’s stomach twisted a bit at it - not in a bad way but not entirely in a good way either. He followed John out of the observatory and outside, into the night air. There was a car outside waiting for them with Teyla and Ronon inside, in the front. John opened the door for Rodney and he slid in the backseat, slouching down a bit. John made his way around the other side of the car and as he got in, he brought with him the scent of cedar chips. It made Rodney’s heart jump a little, that scent. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected but the drive home was silent - John was quiet presence in the seat next to him, closer than he’d ever been in years, but still not close enough to touch. Not that Rodney would know what to do even if he wanted to. He wasn’t sure how he felt about John. Some days, he hated John with the hatred that only a teenage body can sustain - hot, burning, raging against the injustice of it all. Other days, he thought the pang he felt in his chest might be him missing John. But how could you miss something you never really had? And then, on other days, all he could feel was indifference - a sort of laissez faire with respect to his own life, and all Rodney felt was a distant pull to do something, anything. He mostly lost himself in his schoolwork then - he was close to finishing his first bachelor degree in physics and he knew he wanted to get a PhD, but lately, engineering has been catching his eye as well. Perhaps he’ll do both. 

They were back at the manor much quicker than it had taken for Rodney and Radek to make it out to the observatory. As they drive up through the heavy iron gates, John finally turned to him and spoke. 

“How did you manage to get off the grounds?”

Rodney was surprised - he thought John must already know since it seemed he caught up with Rodney relatively quickly. 

“How did you know I was gone if you don’t know how I made it out?”

John’s lips curled slightly. “I have a general sense of your proximity. I noticed you weren’t at home and once outside the estate, I managed to catch a sense of where you were. But I didn’t stop to see how you made it out.”

Part of Rodney wanted to keep how he got out a secret - in case he wanted to do it again. But another part recalled the conversation they’d just had - that if Rodney stopped acting like a child, John wouldn’t treat him like one. 

“Across the roof, down the drainpipe and then we built a pulley system to get up and over the wall.”

The car came to a stop, Teyla and Ronon getting out of the front seat, both giving a quick nod to John. John inclined his head once in return and then turned his attention back to Rodney. He frowned. “What about the guards?”

“Your guards patrol like a Swiss watch - always on time.” Rodney shrugged. “Once Radek and I figured out the schedule, all we had to do was stick to it.”

John smiled a bit at that. “I’ll have to speak to the guards, then.”

“Uh, you’re not going to kill anyone because of this, are you?” Rodney asked, suddenly worried that he’d just signed some unknown persons death warrant. 

“No, Rodney, I’m not going to kill anyone. At least, not over this.”

The statement of course made Rodney wonder how often John did kill people in his position. Certainly, he’d killed six Wrath drones tonight, although Rodney didn’t feel the least bit bad about that. 

John got out of his side of the car, and Rodney did the same although his own exit was nearly as smooth nor fluid as John’s was. Rodney watched John surreptitiously as they walked up the front stairs and into the estate house. John moved like a big jungle cat, leaving Rodney feeling like a gangly, young horse next to him. Just inside the house, with the door shut behind them, John paused and turned to Rodney. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me, tomorrow night?”

“Sure. I guess,” answered Rodney. 

John nodded his head once. “I will see you tomorrow night.”

Rodney could hear John’s booted steps on the hallway marble floor as he walked away, the sound echoing in the large space. He stood there until he couldn’t hear them anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one today while I finish up working on the dinner scene! Sorry for the delay on that! I have a beta now as well, and I'm just waiting on how she would like to be credited. But I'm happy to say this has now been beta'd!

Rodney could hardly sleep that night, managing only a few fretful hours between three and six a.m. 

Dinner with John. 

He had so many questions! He honestly didn’t know where to start. Why did John Choose Rodney? What did it mean to be Chosen? What would have happened if John hadn’t shown up that day, so many years ago, when Rodney almost drowned? Would there have been someone else for John? 

Was it chemical? Biological? A combination of both? How did John know Rodney was the one? And that day, that day his mother died, how did John know to come and find Rodney? Was it Rodney calling for him?

Of course, thoughts of his mother always made Rodney sad and angry. Sad that she was gone and angry - so, so angry that she’d been killed. For really, that was the truth. She’d been murdered by the Wraith. Rodney knew they’d been trying for him. He remembered at his dedication when he’d been only seven when one of the Wraith, the really tall one, Todd, had said that if John’s Chosen died that John would have to forfeit his power. 

Presuming that John himself wasn’t the one to kill Rodney. That seemed to be the loophole. 

God, how could it seem like he’d been someone else then, someone else’s child? He could see himself in his memory - short, blond hair slicked up and his eyes - his mother’s eyes. Large, blue and inquisitive. She’d looked so pretty that day. He still had a bottle of her perfume. After she died, all of Rodney’s things showed up at the Estate house a few days later. Among them had been a small box of his mother’s things. Her perfume, her good jewelry, a couple of pieces of costume jewelry that weren’t worth anything but that she’d worn all the time, her winter scarf and gloves, and a small notebook with her handwriting. The notebook contained inconsequential things - grocery lists, to-do lists - but Rodney loved to look down at her handwriting - so loopy and scrawled. He wondered who had picked out these things of his mother’s for him. He’d been twelve when she died. Old enough to know he wanted something of hers, but not quite able to articulate what. These mementos, all things he associated with her, even if he hadn’t really understood it at that age. 

Rodney wasn’t sure how he felt about John when he thought of his mother’s death. Just when it seemed as if some of the anger and resentment toward John was ready to burn out, Rodney would think about his mother and it would come back again, flaring just as bright as always. Rodney did feel drawn to John, but was that some kind of Kindred thing? He avowed never to use the word ‘magic’ as magic was for simpletons and children. Rodney always thought of Clarke’s Third Law - Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

So Kindred ‘magic’ had to be some kind of science. It had to work within the laws of physics, chemistry and biology (although Rodney wasn’t too sold on biology being a science some days. Too messy). But how did it work then? Was he only acting under some kind of strange, yet totally scientifically explainable, compulsion? And if he were, could it be stopped or cut off?

Or could he actually have feelings for John?

But if he did, what were those feelings and how reliable could they be given that Rodney’s entire life from when he was five-years old on was somehow tied to John and incredibly influenced by him. Teyla and Ronon worked for John and were Kindred like John. Rodney’s studies came from Teyla and Ronon (at least while he was younger) and therefore were likely influenced by John. Later on, Rodney advanced so far and so quickly that a series of tutors were brought in for him but his early education, his foundations, were set under John’s instructions. All of his following lessons were then paid for by John, by instructors that John, or his people, vetted. 

Rodney lived in John’s house and ate food prepared by John’s servants and was driven places in John’s car. 

Even if Rodney could decide if his feelings were reliable or not, he couldn’t quite decide what his feelings were. Sometimes he hated John. He hated him so much Rodney thought he or John might drop dead from it. Rodney thought if anyone’s anger was strong enough to stop a Kindred in their tracks, it would be his. 

But then other times, he found himself wanting John around, wanting to see him, wanting to have him show some interest in Rodney’s life. Hadn’t Rodney been waiting for years for John to finally take an interest? Wasn’t Rodney getting now what he’d always wanted?

Rodney grabbed his pillow and crushed it against his face, groaning in frustration. Sometimes, he thought his brain, while incredibly intelligent and possibly even genetically advanced from the rest of the populace (let’s be honest, Rodney was leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of the world), it just wasn’t big enough to hold all the variables that John and his presence entailed. 

Now, he was almost getting what he might have always wanted but was determined never to ask for: time with John. 

He had no idea how he felt about that. 

***  
Radek came over the next day, looking meek and a little frazzled as Rodney let him in the front door. 

“I was not sure I would be allowed back on the premises after last night,” Radek admitted, eyes darting around searching for something to jump out of the shadows at him. Sometimes he reminded Rodney of a nervous house cat. 

To tell the truth, Rodney hadn’t been sure either. But after finally giving up on sleep at about 5 am, he’d found himself too nervous to be left to his own devices. After a few hours wandering the house, tinkering with one of his computers and then finishing one of his papers for a correspondence course, he decided to see what data, if any, could be salvaged from their trip to the observatory last night. Without checking with anyone, he’d picked up the phone and told Radek to come over.

Rodney hadn’t known if they’d let Radek through the gates. But the guards had, so clearly Rodney wasn’t banned from having friends over.

Radek was clutching his backpack close to his chest, like he had been last night. He followed Rodney through the hallway to the big staircase and then upstairs to Rodney’s lab-room. It was adjacent to his bedroom and where he kept most of his computer and scientific equipment. 

“Well, clearly you were allowed,” Rodney said, somewhat dismissively as he grabbed his own pack from last night and started hooking up the data stores. 

“I felt certain I would be drained dry,” Radek said with a little shudder as he dropped his bag down on one of the counters and started unpacking. “The daeyevek looked like he would spit fire. Such things I have only seen illustrated in books. Kindred killing other kindred.”

“Well, they weren’t really other kindred. They were Wraith drones. They’re like… a subclass of the Wraith.” Rodney was trying not to think too hard about what Radek was saying. He asked Radek here so he _wouldn’t_ have to think about John. Not so that Radek could drone on about him. 

Radek crossed himself and Rodney rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start with the religion. It’s in the same category as ‘magic,’ - i.e, not real and doesn’t exist.”

“You believe what you believe, and I will believe what I believe. If you’re lucky, when St. Peter comes knocking, I will put in a good word for you.”

Rodney let out an exasperated breath. “I feel so relieved. I’ll sleep through the night now knowing you’re praying for me,” he said sarcastically. “Have you looked at the data from last night yet or not?” He made grabby hands for Radek’s motherboards. 

“I’ve not looked at anything. I barely slept for all the adrenaline in my system.” Radek pulled out one of the motherboards from his bag and Rodney winced when he saw the crack in it. Must have happened when Radek dropped it. Rodney started gathering some tools, hoping they could fix it. Radek was fidgeting slightly, not quite holding the board far enough out for Rodney to reach. 

“Well?” Rodney said, making a ‘gimme’ gesture. 

“What happened after I left, last night?”

Rodney swallowed. “Nothing.”

Radek made a face at him. “You are a horrible liar.” He held the motherboard aloft, holding it hostage. 

“That probably doesn’t even have any good data on it,” Rodney said, surly. 

“And yet, you are dying to check it for yourself.”

“Fine!” Rodney exclaimed. “We… talked.”

“Talked? You? This I will not believe. Shouted, yes. Raged, of course. But talk? I’m not so certain you know the meaning of that simple word.”

“Do you want to know what happened or not?”

Radek moved the motherboard slightly closer. “Talked of what?”

Rodney made a disgruntled noise. “I may have yelled at him. A little.”

Radek smiled knowingly. “This, I believe. And then?”

“He may have yelled too.”

Radek set the motherboard down between them. “Are you happier now for having seen him?”

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? 

“I don’t know.” Rodney picked up the motherboard and twirled it a bit between his hands, fingers on the pointy edges. “We’re supposed to have dinner tonight.”

“This is progress, no? Is this not what you wanted?”

Rodney shrugged, starting to hook up the motherboard to another computer. “Maybe.”

“So, you need distraction then, yes? It is why I am here.” Curse Radek and his big brain. While it wasn’t as big as Rodney’s it was certainly big enough to figure it all out. “Let’s see what data we did manage to collect before we were interrupted.”

That was a tame way of putting what happened last night. The image of John stepping into the room carrying dead Wraith drone heads wasn’t one that Rodney would soon forget. In that moment, John had been every inch the predator. Yet Rodney hadn’t really feared him. He’d felt a rush of adrenaline and excitement and maybe anticipation. But not fear. 

He tried to push those thoughts from his mind and get to work. The whole reason Radek was here was to help distract Rodney and he couldn’t do that if Rodney took every moment to think about John. 

“All right,” said Rodney, seeing the start of the data coming onto his screen. Didn’t you have three of the disks as well? Get me those.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney has dinner with John.

CHAPTER 9  
The estate house had servants, but they were either just very good at their jobs or partially supernatural creatures themselves because they managed to stay out of sight most of the time. Rodney knew there were, at the very least, one housekeeper (maybe two), a cook, a chauffeur, a gardener and a butler. On any given day, Rodney might pass by a housekeeper (honestly, there might only be one, but he never seemed to be sure that he was looking at the same person) and definitely the cook (he was a growing boy and he did what growing boys do - he ate. A lot). Sometimes he saw the butler. He’d been driven by the chauffeur a few times, and given the state of the gardens outside, there must be someone who took care of it, but Rodney never actually saw them. 

Teyla and Ronon did ‘Kindred Stuff’ - when Rodney was younger, he’d sort of categorized all they must do under that title and now that he was older, he’d really never found a better title for it. He knew they went to meetings and negotiations and advised John, but Rodney didn’t know what they actually _did_. They stopped tutoring him long ago but they still seemed to have some sort of protectorship or custodianship of him. It was Ronon that popped his head into the lab while Rodney and Radek were working and told Rodney that dinner with John would be served at seven in the dining hall. 

Rodney had been banned from the dining hall ever since he and Radek tried to turn it into a robotics fight club. He didn’t even know if they’d ever managed to get the gouges out of the hardwood floor or the shrapnel from the wall from when one of the ‘bots exploded. 

Well, he guessed he would find out tonight. 

Radek left around five and that gave Rodney more than enough time to shower, jerk off, get dressed and then get nervous and contemplate showering and jerking off again. He didn’t know what to wear and had decided on a pair of khakis and a polo shirt. Was this a date? Did Rodney care if it were? Did he want to look nice? Or did he want to look like he didn’t care? Jesus, he preferred computers sometimes. He sat at one of the benches in his lab and worked on calibrating a new glass polisher he’d made. He wanted to get better resolution on his telescope and he figured the best way to do that would be to calculate what kind of lens he needed and then make it. He could probably just order one, but he liked doing the math, figuring out the physics of it and then making the piece himself. It might even rival some of the observatories’ equipment. Not the big dishes, no way, but some of the smaller ones? Sure. 

They’d actually gotten some good data from their trip to the observatory, despite it being cut short. Still, it wasn’t enough for what Rodney wanted. He wasn’t sure if he could or even should ask John if he could go back. 

He wasn’t sure about a lot of things. 

A sharp pain in his thumb brought his attention back to what he was doing and he stared dumbly at the surge of red from the fleshy part of his finger. The edge of the glass had cut through cleanly - now that the cut was made, there was hardly any pain. He squeezed it a bit and a couple of fat drops slid off his thumb and landed on the bench. He rushed to the washroom and ran it under cold water, hoping the chill would slow the bleeding down. 

A knock at the door had him jumping a bit and he hit his thumb against the faucet, starting the bleeding up again, just as it was slowing down. 

“Yeah?” he called out, rummaging with one hand in the drawer. There had to be a Band-Aid in there somewhere. 

“Dinner will be served in twenty minutes.”

That must have been the butler. Rodney barely heard him speak, but he was the only one besides the cook that was ever around at this time. Rodney felt his stomach swoop at the words and he managed some kind of half verbal acknowledgement. 

Dinner. Twenty minutes. 

Way at the back of the drawer he’d managed to find a Band-Aid. A Scooby-doo one. Well, it would have to do. He bandaged his finger quickly, trying to get the cut to close as he did. He fiddled with it for a few more minutes before finally deciding that he couldn’t waste any more time. He took a deep breath and left the bathroom. 

The estate was always quiet but today that quiet made him even more nervous. His ears seemed hyper-sensitive, straining to hear any sound they could as he made his way downstairs. His footfalls on the stairs were of the same muffled quality they always were. While the stairs themselves were wooden, there were enough rugs and tapestries about that they absorbed most of the sound and didn’t allow for much echoing. Not like the main foyer that was more bare. Once Rodney reached there, his steps seemed unnaturally loud to his straining ears and he almost wanted to shuffle his feet to keep his steps quiet. Not that it would matter. He was pretty sure if John were in the dining room, he would hear Rodney coming from a mile away. Kindred hearing was exceptional. 

Rodney paused outside the double doors to the dining hall, staring at the wooden grain of them. His hand reached out for the handle and hovered. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this. What if it was a horrible let down? What if it wasn’t? What did he hope for? Rodney still wasn’t sure. 

“You can come in, Rodney.”

John’s voice came through the closed doors with a certain clarity that should be impossible according to the regular laws of sound. He must have used his Voice. Although it didn’t have any psychological effect on Rodney, it was still louder and more resonant than regular voices. Part of Rodney wanted to disobey - to turn around and march back upstairs in direct defiance of John’s words. But the more rational part of him knew his words weren’t an order. They were more of an invitation for Rodney to enter. John must be able to hear him hesitating on the other side of the door - maybe even hear the beating of Rodney’s heart. 

The handle was cool under his fingertips. He gripped it tightly and pulled the heavy door open. Of course, he’d been in the dining room before - there wasn’t an area of the estate that he hadn’t been in at least once. His natural curiosity demanded he know every nook and cranny. Although, Rodney couldn't remember the last time he’d eaten in the dining room. He usually just took his meals in the kitchen, the cook hovering over him and making sure he got what he wanted. Ronon and Teyla often joined him - asking after his studies and his projects. 

There was a long banquet-style table in the dining hall that helped fill the enormous space. All day today, when Rodney had tried to picture dinner with John in his head, he’d imagined John at one end of the table and Rodney at the other - comically far away with candelabra and tabletop arrangements in between them. He and John would have to nearly shout at one another across the distance. It would be somewhat cold, impersonal and absurd. 

Instead, the large table was still there but it wasn’t set. A smaller table was set, off to the side in a corner by the windows. John stood next to it, staring out the window across the gardens of the estate. He turned as Rodney entered and although Rodney had just seen him yesterday, he was somewhat dumbstruck at seeing John tonight. Maybe it was because he knew they were about to have dinner together, maybe it was because he hadn’t seen John on the estate in years, or maybe it was because John was just that good-looking. He honestly wasn’t sure. Rodney always expected John to be dressed up - in a suit or something more formal. At Rodney’s dedication John had worn black slacks and a green shirt - a green that Rodney could still picture perfectly in his memory. It had looked nice, but not overly stiff or formal. Tonight John was dressed quite similarly. Perhaps they were even the same black slacks, although Rodney doubted it. The shirt this time was a black turtleneck. Rodney was never sure if when Kindred wore turtlenecks it was ironic or just… funny in a weird way. Did they realize that mortals quite often wore them as flimsy defense against Kindred? Was it some kind of statement back when Kindred wore them? Or did they even care? Rodney’s fingers unconsciously rose up to his own collared shirt and he fiddled with the collar for a moment before dropping his hand back down to his side. 

“Hello, Rodney.”

John’s voice wasn’t the same one he’d used to call through the door just moments before. Now it was quieter and softer. Maybe intimate was the right word but Rodney felt his brain scoot away from that word as quickly as it had jumped into his head. 

“Hello, John.”

Rodney thought that he was perhaps one of the few people that called John by his name. Ronon and Teyla did, although they were just as likely to call him the Daeyevek as well. The staff around the house never referred to him by anything but his title. The newspapers generally referred to him by his title as well, although they sometimes added his name afterward - Daeyevek John Sheppard. When Rodney used his title, he tended to do it somewhat sarcastically. 

But usually, when Rodney thought of him, he was just John. 

“You’re bleeding.”

So as far as things he was expecting to talk about, Rodney had made a huge list in his head and this was definitely not on it.

“What?”

John tipped his head slightly up and to the side, like he was listening or… no, not listening, scenting, Rodney realized. 

“Oh, I cut myself. On something upstairs.” He squeezed his hand a little tighter feeling self-conscious about it and maybe a little creeped out. 

John nodded once. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Um, okay.” Rodney shrugged a bit and then made his way over to the small dining table. John didn’t hold his chair out or anything but he did wait for Rodney to sit before he sat down himself. 

“Do you normally eat?” Rodney asked bluntly. 

John smiled a bit showing off his perfect teeth. “Yes, Rodney, I eat. I’m sure you know most Kindred do.”

Rodney _had_ known that. In fact, Rodney was probably somewhat of a Kindred expert. Rodney could recite facts upon facts about Kindred - what they ate, how and where they slept, how the Wraith were different from the Goa’ould who were different from the Daeva, John’s clan. 

But Rodney knew next to nothing about John. 

As soon as John flicked his white cloth napkin on his lap, a waiter appeared and poured them both some water. 

“Would you like something else to drink or is water fine?” John asked. 

Rodney wondered if he’d be allowed a beer and thought about how nervous he was and figured he’d better stick to water. “No, water’s fine.”

The waiter disappeared for a moment and when he came back, he had small bowls of potato and corn soup - one of Rodney’s favorites. The cook would sometimes put little bits of ham in as well and oh - there they were. Rodney looked over and checked what spoon John was using first and selected the same one. 

“I know you’re close to finishing your bachelor in physics,” John said, surprising Rodney. Rodney guessed he shouldn’t be so surprised that John knew where he was in his studies. He was paying for it after all. “Have you given thought to what you want afterward?”

“I know I want my PhD in physics but I thought I would get at least a bachelors in engineering as well. Maybe mechanical or electrical, I don’t know yet.” Rodney almost wanted John to argue and say it was too much or that Rodney wouldn't’ need to be so educated as a Chosen. But John only nodded and looked thoughtful. 

“A lot of companies will be interested in you with an education like that.”

“And you’d let me get a job?” Rodney questioned.

“Of course. If that’s what you want.”

“What if it were far away? Like Switzerland? Or Russia?”

“I own property all over the world. Arrangements could be made.”

Rodney stirred his soup a bit. “Just like that, eh? Arrangements could be made.”

“Yes, Rodney. Just like that.”

Rodney tried hard to find a tone of teasing or insincerity in John’s voice, but there wasn’t one. He ate his soup in silence for a few moments before putting his spoon down. 

“But why?”

“Why what?” John frowned. 

“Why would you do that? Why do you pay for everything? You must want something from me.”

John shrugged. “You’re my Chosen.”

“All the books I’ve read on Kindred and I still don’t quite get what that means. Everything talks about ‘after’ you choose someone. What happens to them ‘after’ they’ve been picked. But there’s never anything on _why_. It’s like you all got together and swore not to talk about it.” Rodney could feel his cheeks flushing a bit with his temper. 

John paused, thoughtful. Rodney wondered how he could always appear so calm. Then he remembered how John looked at the observatory - holding the heads of two Drones, looking feral and mean. Which was true? Which was more real? This John - quiet, almost soft spoken and thoughtful, or the other - loud, angry and ready to kill? 

“I know you’ve learned our language and you’ve proven to be quite proficient with it. But there are still some intricacies that are difficult to explain to someone who doesn't grow up speaking it and isn’t a native speaker. The English word, the human word, Chosen is the word that best describes someone like you in a way that is easily comprehended and understood by mortals. However, the Daeva word for you is _Daeyathra_ and it’s very difficult to translate into English. It has different meanings depending on how it’s used in a sentence, whether it’s the subject or the object, or even an adjective. It’s quite different from the Wrath or Goa’ould words.

“The Daeva word can mean something like the time right after the sun has set but before it’s night. That dusk time that’s fleeting and hard to define on either end. It’s something that creates a sense of longing and want, but that cannot actually be captured. It’s not a single color but the mixture and contrast of colors together that makes each one stand out better. It can also mean something easily lost or broken. Something transient. Something that can’t be kept or contained.” John smiled a bit, looking almost sheepish. “Sometimes it means something shiny - like a jewel or a precious metal. Sometimes it means a fool’s errand - something you can never have.” He shrugged. “It’s a very hard word to define. Mostly, we just stick with Chosen and let humans have their interpretation of that one.” John smiled softly. “You’re soup is getting cold.”

Rodney hadn’t realized he’d taken a spoonful of soup and gotten it halfway to his mouth and then just left his arm hanging there while John spoke. 

“Oh, um.” He slurped up the spoonful and then studied the bowl carefully while he thought about what John said. Rodney didn’t consider himself a romantic sort of person. He generally scorned any sort of fanciful notion. If it wasn’t measurable and scientific then it really wasn’t worth his time. Yet he couldn’t help feeling something at John’s words. The way he spoke about the word Chosen, all the things it could mean. Was he serious? He didn’t seem to be joking but then again, maybe Rodney didn’t know him well enough to know. If he were serious, how the hell was Rodney supposed to process that? He stirred his soup a bit, fishing out more of the ham bits and then dunking a bit of a bread roll in before jamming it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” John said. 

Instead of answering, Rodney had another question. “Why did you choose me?”

John paused, setting his spoon down and Rodney wondered if the question made him angry or John was just done eating. Rodney couldn’t tell.  
“It’s not every Daeyevek that finds their Chosen and even those that do may have to wait several lifetimes to do so. But when we know, we know.”

Rodney frowned. “That’s a completely ridiculous answer without any logic or reason behind it.”

“It’s the only answer I have.”

Rodney slurped up the rest of his soup, somewhat frustrated. The waiter came out again swapping out their soup bowls for a main plate with steak, baby potatoes and a little bit of coleslaw - again all of Rodney’s favorites. 

“Did you ask for them to make my favorites tonight?” Rodney asked. 

“Yes.”

“Did you know what they were before you asked?”

“Yes.”

Rodney swallowed. “How much do you know about me?”

John paused in the midst of cutting his steak to take a sip of water. Rodney couldn’t help but imagine what it would look like if the glass were full of blood. Did John drink blood from a glass or did he have what the public had tried to charmingly call a _sang ami_. The real definition wasn’t as pretty as the French - a blood donor. 

“I know about your studies. I know what you like to read. I know about your robotics work with Radek. If it has to do with the workings of the estate, I know about it - your food preferences, your comings and goings, your schedule.”

Rodney gripped the silverware in his hands tightly. “And you don’t think any of that is morbidly creepy?”

“I assumed you knew that I was aware of these things.”

As much as he hated to admit it, that made Rodney pause. While he hadn’t known if John was aware of his life at the estate, he had _hoped_. Foolishly, ridiculously hoped that John was as hyper-aware of Rodney as Rodney was of John, or at least of John’s absence. 

Rodney busied himself cutting a piece of steak and half a baby potato to place on his fork. He chewed it slowly, wondering if his next question would give him the answers he wanted or if he’d just regret asking it. 

“Why were you never here?”

John paused, setting his knife and fork down and Rodney was suddenly worried he’d pushed it too far and John would get up from the table and leave. At the same time, Rodney had to know. He needed to know. 

“How old do you think I am, Rodney?”

Rodney fiddled with his cutlery and then dropped his fork causing a loud clanking sound on the china. “The newspapers report your age to be around three hundred years old.”

John’s lips curled slightly. “I’ll have to thank them for underestimating. Perhaps they think I look good for my age.”

“I think they’re just fascinated when they get any detail of your life at all,” Rodney blurted out honestly. 

“I like my life to be private. I can’t help what I am. It’s no reason to make a celebrity out of me.”

Rodney swallowed. “Are they right? Is that how old you are?”

“No,” John said, taking a sip of water. “I’m four-hundred and thirty-seven.”

Rodney choked a bit on his own spit and had to take a drink of his own water, eyes watering. 

“Although to be honest, it seems silly to count my age in years. Once you get past one hundred and fifty it all kind of blurs together.”

“I wouldn’t know,” murmured Rodney, finally having his lungs and throat back under control. 

“No. You wouldn’t.” John’s tone wasn’t mean or cruel. It was simply factual. “Imagine then, Rodney, that even at your young age of eighteen, I presented you with a child. Barely out of toddler years. A five year old. How would you interact with him?”

Rodney squirmed a bit, knowing immediately where this was going and getting the point quickly. His brain was fast like that. He’d spent so long wondering where John was, why John wasn’t around more. He felt moronic now for never having viewed it from John’s side. 

Fortunately, it didn’t seem like John was going to wait for Rodney to cobble together some kind of answer. “You’d probably want to take care of him. He’s a child after all. Make sure he’s safe and well-cared for. But you can’t have a conversation with him. Not a real one. But, you’re bound by politics and you must make some kind of official claim on him, at least to make others in your circle of influence aware that your decision is real and true. So you wait until he’s seven so he’s at least big enough to be able to be seen when he stands on a box behind a podium.”

Rodney remembered how large that podium had seemed. How nervous he had been. How John had to read the words aloud with him because Rodney had gotten scared and forgotten what to do. Rodney pushed his food around a bit on his plate, hardly daring to look up at John. 

“You stay away. He’s a child. Even though, like all children, he thinks he’s not.”

“And now?” Rodney asked, not able to keep quiet any longer.

“Now you’re an adult, at least by most human laws. Although I admit, I find the transition from child to adulthood tenuous and vague. It wasn’t as though there were some biological or chemical change suddenly on your birthday.”

Rodney smirked, recalling his own thoughts on birthdays. “No, just another trip made around the sun.”

“Exactly.”

When John looked at him then, Rodney felt like he was maybe seeing John differently now. Or maybe he saw himself differently. Maybe he hadn’t been discarded for all those years. 

“I’m still considerably older than you. With Kindred, it’s not apparent because our bodies age at such a slow rate, but if I were a human man of eighty having dinner with an eighteen year old, it would be scandalous, deplorable. However, because I don’t _look_ four-hundred and thirty-seven, it’s considered acceptable.”

Huh. Rodney had never thought about the visual aspect of Kindreds. What John was saying was undeniably true - if he looked older, there would probably be hoards of social groups popping up demanding to ‘save’ Rodney from John. But because Kindred didn’t look as old as they were, there was no social compunction about it. 

“Are you going to go away again?” Rodney asked, scared what the answer was. 

“I should. I should have never Chosen you.” 

Rodney felt sick at that but then John spoke again. 

“It wasn’t fair to you.” John took a drink of water and Rodney couldn’t help but watch his Adam’s apple bob a bit under the fabric of the turtleneck. “I asked you yesterday if you were lonely. Which I’m sure you were. You are.”

Rodney wanted to nod, give John some outward signal or encouragement but found he couldn’t. All he could do was fiddle with his fork and knife and watch as John spoke carefully and slowly - like each word was painful for him to speak. 

“I’ve been lonely too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to herasmom for her beta skills! She's working on the beginning of the story and I'll be going back and fixing my errors. 
> 
> Thank you all for following me on this journey! I've never posted a WIP before and it's been a little nervewracking!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only managed to get half of this to herasmom for a beta. any mistakes you see are my own. I'll also be going back and reposting chapters 1-7 as herasmom has gone through and beta read them.

When Radek asked him about his dinner with John the next day, all Rodney could do was say it was fine. 

Radek smiled. “You say fine, but your complexion says it went very well. You blush like a young Czech maiden at her first dance.” 

Rodney threw a bag of Cheetos at him and didn’t say anything. 

Radek laughed even harder. “No words against my intellect? No scathing remark upon my questionable education and grand ideas of physics? It must have gone very well indeed.”

“Shut up, Radek,” Rodney groused, completely losing focus of the video game and crashing his race car into the side of a mountain. 

Radek must have taken pity on him because he said no more. Although he kept the bag of Cheetos. 

At the end of last night’s dinner, John had asked Rodney to dinner again and this time, if it was even possible, Rodney took more care choosing his outfit. Like the night before, Rodney met John in the dining hall where they ate and talked. 

It seemed such a simple thing and Rodney almost felt foolish for how he preened under John’s attention. All the things Rodney had learned about John he’d learned second hand. It was quite different to now learn about John from first hand experience. Things like how smart John was. While he wasn’t at Rodney’s level of genius, he was easily able to pick up on what Rodney was working on, be it physics, astrophysics or mechanical engineering. John offered insightful commentary and at one point, Rodney started snapping his fingers, wishing he had a pen to make notes. 

John happened to have one and Rodney madly scribbled all over the fine cloth napkins - both his and John’s - with his realizations and ideas for some new theorems. By the time he was done, Rodney realized that three hours had passed in which John had sat silently, by Rodney’s side, merely watching him work. 

While Rodney’s fantasies had never been convoluted or involved, he now only had to think of how he’d realized the intent way John was watching him only at the end of the three hours. John’s kaleidoscopic eyes. 

The third night, they got into an argument. Until that night, Rodney hadn’t even known you could get sexually frustrated from fighting. He’d fought with Radek before, of course. But it was nothing like fighting with John. They’d been discussing mathematics of all things, with Rodney arguing that too many new mathematicians were using proof by contradiction. John agreed with GH Hardy stating it was a mathematician’s finest weapon. Rodney argued you couldn’t just prove everything was true by supposing the opposite. John argued that the method of proof didn’t make it any less true. 

Rodney found himself distracted by John during the argument. John never raised his voice, he never slammed his hand on the table, he never cut Rodney off. Rodney on the other hand yelled a bit, used his cutlery as he gestured and at one point, came damn close to throwing a glass of water at John. 

John never wavered. 

It was that calm, cool reserve that kept Rodney awake at night, imagining what it _would_ take to break that demeanor. 

For all he was getting to know John at dinners, John still kept his distance physically. He sat closer now, close enough that Rodney imagined he could feel the heat coming off his body, but he’d yet to touch Rodney. Rodney wasn’t entirely sure what he would do if John did touch him. 

But he wanted to find out. 

Rodney knew many Chosen had some kind of… intimate relationship with their Kindred. Or rather, he’d read that in a number of sources. Everything he’d read had been almost clinical and short - there generally existed a sexual relationship between Chosen and Kindred - full stop. Nothing he’d read ever said how it started or why or if it was meant to be part of the Choosing, or if it just happened. Rodney was desperate for more information but didn’t know where to get it. He definitely wasn’t going to ask Ronon or Teyla. He shuddered just thinking about it.

And it wasn’t like he could ask John. 

Although they didn’t have any kind of physical relationship, Rodney still found there was a growing closeness in their dinners. The large space of the dining hall contrasted with the small table at which they sat made dinners feel more personal and private. John generally spoke with a quiet voice - so different from when he’d been enraged at the observatory that Rodney wouldn’t have guessed they came from the same man. Rodney wasn’t sure how long he thought their private dinners would go on - days, weeks, indefinitely. He was surprised when John asked for something else. 

They had finished their main course and the ever discreet waiter had just placed their dessert course down (a vanilla pudding that Rodney absolutely loved, adorned with bright red raspberries) when John spoke. 

“I have a Kindred function tomorrow.”

Rodney pulled the spoon out of his mouth, leaving behind a generous serving of smooth, vanilla pudding inside and struggled to both swallow and hide his disappointment. If John had some place to be tomorrow, that meant no dinner with Rodney. 

“Oh,” Rodney finally managed, swallowing down his dessert. 

“I’d like you to accompany me.”

That almost made Rodney choke a bit. He coughed twice and then took a sip of water. “Oh,” he repeated. He stirred his pudding. “What kind of Kindred event?”

John’s face went through a sort of ripple - like he was rolling his eyes and passing judgment on the event all at once. “It’s a political thing. This one will be hosted by the Goa’ould. All higher level Kindred are expected to attend.”

“Are Chosen mandatory?” Rodney asked. 

John’s face softened a bit. “No. Not mandatory.”

Rodney felt himself flush a bit. So John didn’t _have_ to bring him, but was choosing to. Even though he was happy to be asked, he still had to know. 

“What if I don’t want to go?” 

John shrugged. “Then you don’t go. The choice is yours.”

Rodney ate another mouthful of pudding, rolling it around in his mouth. He saw John’s gaze dart down to his lips and then back up again and Rodney nearly choked again on dessert. “Um, yes. I’ll go.”

“It’s a formal event. You’ll have to wear a tuxedo. I’ll arrange for one for you.”

Rodney smirked. “Will some old, Italian man come out of the woodwork and take my measurements?”

John’s lips curved slightly. “No. I know what will fit you.”

If Rodney was a little nervous before knowing that John was staring at his mouth, he was pretty sure he was nearly petrified now at that statement. He felt hot all over and knew his fair skin must be blushing. 

“Good to know.”

***

As with all Goa’ould properties, the mansion where the party was held had a decidedly Egyptian feeling. There were always Goa’ould that claimed they were the actual Ra or the actual Isis - worshipped as a god or goddess in ancient Egypt and still alive to this day. Rodney however knew that none of those claims had ever been substantiated. As far as the _science_ of Kindreds was concerned, no Kindred had ever been found to be older than 500 years. If the world knew how old John really was, they’d likely be even more intrigued by him than they already were. 

As it was, John refused to get out of the car until security had dispersed the paparazzi around the entrance to the mansion. Photographers tended to show up wherever Kindred were and Rodney had gulped, possibly audibly, when he saw the throng outside the car. The driver (not Ronon or Teyla this time) rolled down one of the darkened windows and simply informed the Goa’ould security that the Dayevek and his Chosen would not be exiting the vehicle until all press personnel were removed. There were shouts and cries of outrage, but removed they were until it was almost desolate outside. Then, and only then, did John open his own car door and step out. Rodney pushed open the door on his side and scrambled out, almost bumping into John as he came around to get Rodney. 

“How many Kindred will be here tonight?” Rodney asked. 

John tipped his head as though he were listening. “So far there’s about 40, mixed in with some humans. But this is a formal Kindred event and all truces and treaties must be respected and maintained.”

Rodney had a flashback to his dedication ceremony when John had told Rodney that all Kindred had to follow John’s rules. At only seven, it had made Rodney feel safer walking downstairs into the unknown. 

Rodney was almost ashamed to admit that it made him feel the same way at eighteen as he walked up the stairs and into the ornate Goa’ould mansion.

It was dark inside, though Rodney supposed they didn't’ have to waste their money on too much light - Kindred saw just as well in half-light as they did normally. There was the cloying smell of incense burning and Rodney wrinkled his nose. 

“I know,” John said wryly as they moved down the long hall. “They love that stuff. I can’t stand it myself.”

“It smells like a cat died and they’re trying to cover it up,” Rodney hissed. 

John chuckled and Rodney started a bit at the sound. He didn’t think he’d ever heard it before. “I was just going to say it was unpleasant but you’ve got me there.”

They entered a large ballroom and Rodney’s eyes darted around taking in the people, trying to pick out the humans from the Kindred. Then he saw them. 

“Wraith,” he said lowly. 

One of them flicked his eyes over to John and Rodney and Rodney automatically moved closer to John - only aware he did so when their shoulders bumped. As far as Rodney knew, the clans of Kindred evolved separately and if there was a reason the Wraith became so distorted and different from the other clans, the Wraith were keeping it to themselves. Both Wraith and Goa’ould also had underlings - the Wraith had drones and the Goa’ould had Jaffa - lesser level Kindred that were compelled to obey their higher ranking masters. Rodney was glad John’s clan, the Daeva clan, had no such sub-class. There were a handful of Wraith drones milling about - almost mindlessly circling around the higher class Wraith - probably under orders to stay close. Their nearly faceless visages were enough to make Rodney look away and at the same time, make him want to stare closer to figure out if it was a mask or simply how their faces were. The Jaffa were harder to separate from their Goa’ould masters - usually only differentiated by their less ornate clothing. 

“They can’t hurt you here,” John said, his voice right in Rodney’s ear. 

Rodney stiffened his spine and jutted his chin out. “I know.” He still couldn't’ keep his eyes from the long, white hair and pale green skin of the Wraith. Rodney finally thought to ask John the question that scientists had been asking for years, but that no Kindred would answer. 

“Were they ever human?”

John, his eyes also tracking the Wraith as they moved around the room said. “Once a long time ago they started off as humans but they went wrong. There’s a Kindred legend, we don’t share it with mortals,” John began and Rodney felt his brain perk up at the notion of fresh knowledge. “The lore states that a group of Wraith attacked a colony of Fae, the Old Ones or Ancients they’re sometimes called. In retaliation, the Ancient Queen captured all the Wraith she could find and locked them in between the Fae world and ours. That was the first Wraith Hive - a group of them trapped together. Time moved differently there. No one can say for how long they were trapped. When the Queen finally opened the portal to release them, out came the Wraith as they are now - white hair, slits for noses. Along with the drones - Wraith that had been fed on while they were trapped.”

Rodney never had been one for fairy tales or fables. “That can’t possibly be true. There’s no evidence of any kind of Fae creatures or any kind of stable inter-dimensional portal between two worlds.”

John shrugged. “That’s the legend.” Then he smiled. “I’ll leave you to figure out the science of it.”

Rodney huffed. “Well, maybe I will.” He craned his neck around and spotted a buffet table for humans. And another one next to it for Kindred. Rodney had only been to one Kindred event before - his dedication. He’d been so nervous before the ceremony and after that he hadn’t noticed if there had been a Kindred table or not. He and his mother had left pretty quickly and Rodney had been more focused on the tray of strawberries and kiwis that they’d got to take home to pay attention elsewhere. 

Tonight, at the Kindred table, small glasses were set out - whiskey tumbler size, the crystal of them glistening on the black table clothes. Off to the side were the blood vats. Rodney wondered if there were some kind of health code that mandated the distance between mortal food and Kindred food. The two tables were set apart a few feet and it seemed that Kindred didn’t venture close to the human table - not while Kindred were still drinking.

“Are you hungry?” John asked, seeing Rodney staring. 

“Um, yes,” Rodney answered. Truth be told, he could always eat. He was just a little… apprehensive about approaching the tables. The warmth of John’s hand on his back made Rodney break out in a little bit of gooseflesh. At the slight push John offered, Rodney found himself being directed toward the tables. John moved right past the Kindred table and toward the one for humans. Rodney grabbed a plate and started contemplating the food, looking for anything that may contain citrus. 

“I spoke to Ba’al and indicated your allergy. He assured me there would be nothing with citrus.”

Rodney nearly dropped his plate. “You… He’s a System Lord.”

John smiled. “Yes, he is.” John surveyed the food and then took a delicate sniff of the air. “I don’t smell any citrus. It’s all safe for you to eat.”

Rodney felt shaky and suddenly overwhelmed by the buffet. He’d never had free reign over one before. They’d always been like little mine fields. He would usually be able to pick a few things that should be safe (cross-contamination aside), but there would always be one or two things that he’d have to pass on. Then there maybe another one or two things he’d get on his plate and it was like he would be able to smell it - citrus smelled like acid or something rancid to him. It sometimes made him lose his whole appetite. He wouldn’t have a reaction from the scent alone, but it was usually enough to turn him off food. 

“Are you all right?”

Rodney realized he was still staring at John while clutching his plate. He managed a nod and then turned back to the buffet, feeling spoiled for choice. He grabbed some puff pastry things, some battered veggies, some cheese things, some meat rollups that looked good and a few things, the identity of which, he wasn’t even sure. Rodney chuckled a bit. He could try anything at this table! He could eat it all if he wanted!

He stuffed a puff pastry in his mouth and moaned at the taste - it had a soft, cheesy filling inside it with a hint of spice. So tasty. “Are you going to have anything?” he asked John, popping another puff pastry in his mouth. 

“If everything tastes as good as you seem to think that thing does, I might,” John said, his face amused. 

“I meant, uh…” Rodney gestured to the Kindred table were a Goa’ould and a Wraith were both taking glasses and then reading the inscriptions on the vats before making their choices. The inscriptions were in the Kindred Alphabet and Rodney wondered if he dared get close enough to read what they said. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to, knowing he’d feel the heat coming off the vats. He hurriedly stuffed a cheese bite into his mouth, not wanting to think about the vats too much. 

John shook his head. “No.”

Rodney thought of how considerate John had been - with the dinners and getting to know him and now tonight. He swallowed his cheese, feeling his throat a bit dry. “I don’t mind.”

John looked at him with his kaleidoscope eyes and Rodney felt pinned by his gaze. “I’m sure you know that older Kindred don’t need to drink blood as often as Fresh Turned Kindred do.”

“Um, yes, I know, I mean, I’ve read that. Yes,” Rodney stammered. 

John took a plate from the human buffet and picked a few things off the table - mostly vegetables which Rodney found almost hilarious. “I’m quite old.”

Rodney picked up another pastry and ate it quickly, wanting to ask the question and at the same time afraid of the answer. “How often?” he finally managed. 

John chewed on a red pepper sliver and Rodney wasn’t sure if he was going to answer or not when they were interrupted. 

“John Sheppard.”

Rodney felt his eyes go wide at the sound. He remembered that voice. It had been years but he remembered it. It made the hair on his neck stand up. He turned slowly and found himself face to face with long white hair and serpentine skin.

Wraith.

Last time, Rodney had been a child - only seven and the Wraith had seemed impossibly tall. It was hard to process that Rodney had grown and yet the Wraith still seemed to tower over him. Without conscious thought, he moved closer to John. He felt John’s hand come around his waist and settle. Rodney still felt like a child in the moment. 

“Is this your little Chosen one?” The Wraith’s voice had a low, nearly sing-song cadence to it. As though every word he said was meant to tease or taunt. 

“Yes, this is Rodney, my Chosen.” 

Rodney felt himself preen at bit at John’s words and found himself standing taller. 

“Daeva are so odd with their choices,” the Wraith said, peering closer at Rodney. Rodney forced himself to meet the gaze. “It still hardly seems like much of a meal.”

“Well, we sort of frown upon eating our Chosen,” John said, his voice drawling a bit. Rodney’s eyes darted over to John and caught the tail end of his smirk. “How goes the search for a Queen, Todd?”

The Wraith flinched a bit at John’s words and Rodney felt his heart stop. “Todd,” he repeated. If he’d felt seven years old when he first saw the Wraith, he was now transported to the age of twelve - lying in a hospital room listening to Teyla and Ronon talk about his mother’s death and how John was killing Wraith. Todd’s name had been mentioned then too. 

The Wraith, _Todd_ was talking and Rodney heard the words but didn’t really process them. 

“As I’ve said before, the old ways are not the only ways. Do not concern yourself with Hive business.”

“Oh, trust me, your hive business always concerns me.”

Todd made a low kind of growling sound in the back of his throat as he walked away. Rodney felt paralyzed watching him go, staring after his tall, bulky shape. 

“I hate Wraith,” John said, crunching down on a carrot stick.

“Did he kill my mother?” Rodney asked, blurting the words out. 

John turned to him immediately. “What?”

“My mother,” Rodney said, feeling his hands shake. John took his plate and set it down on the buffet table. “I remember, the hospital and Teyla and Ronon were there and they mentioned his name. Was it him? Why isn’t he dead? Why didn’t you kill him?”

Rodney didn’t mean to say the words, didn’t even know he was going to say them until they were out. He’d certainly never thought of himself as blood-thirsty but they were the words that just fell out of his mouth. 

John looked around and then used his hand on Rodney’s waist to lead him to a quiet corner. “Todd is responsible for a lot of things, a great many things-”

“Including my mother’s death?”

John took a breath, pausing. “I can’t prove it.”

“But you think it was him? You think that -” Rodney pointed in the direction Todd went, “that was the… thing responsible?”

Again, John paused. “Kindred politics are very complicated.”

“Don’t you patronize me,” Rodney said, angry now. He pointed his finger in John’s face. “I’m sure we must all seem very quaint to you. The little humans with their short lifespans and frail bodies but that was, she was, and we - ” Rodney couldn’t get any more words out and for a moment he thought he might be having a panic attack. 

With a sudden, sharp tug, he found himself pressed up against John, feeling John’s arms holding him close. The smell of cedar chips filled his nostrils and he didn’t want to feel better but he did. John’s body was lean and lithe, betraying none of the strength Rodney could feel. He struggled a bit against John at first before he relaxed slightly. 

“I’m not patronizing you. If I could prove that Todd was behind the attack on you and your mother, I would kill him. But I can’t prove it, Rodney. I tried. And to be honest, I’m not one hundred percent sure he was behind it.”

“But he said,” Rodney began, trying to think what Todd had actually said. Rodney’s memory was good and all he could remember from when he was younger was Todd implying that Rodney was young and breakable. Which, to be honest, had been and still was very true. 

“That’s what Todd does,” John said, his voice low, right against Rodney’s ear. “He says things. He implies things. He’s subtle. Sneaky. Tricky.”

Rodney took a deep breath, feeling his fingers curling into John’s jacket, creasing the fabric and probably ruining it. 

“I wouldn’t have brought you here, knowing he would be here, if I knew he did it.”

Rodney swallowed, feeling a little hollow and sick. And young. God he felt so young - like he was twelve again. He wanted to bury his face in John’s neck and shoulder and just… pretend he wasn’t there. He took a deep breath and straightened his spine, stepping back from John a bit. He looked down at where he’d been clutching John’s jacket and yes, the fabric was ruined - rent and pulled out of shape by his grip. 

“So you never found out who was behind it?” Rodney asked, meaning the accident. He stared downward, not meeting John’s gaze. 

John shook his head. “Wraith hives are a dime a dozen. Every so often one of them gets delusions of grandeur and tries something. Or it could have been Goa’ould hiring Wraith.” His hands had come up Rodney’s arms, past his shoulders and were cupping Rodney’s face. Rodney felt strange and awkward by the touch at the same time that he wanted to lean into it. 

“What would have happened?” Rodney asked. “If I had died?”

Rodney felt John’s fingers tighten on his neck for a moment and then Rodney was pulled in slightly, closer to John. He bent his head slightly at the pressure and felt John’s lips brush against his temple, like a benediction. Rodney closed his eyes, trying to take in all the sensory input he could. John’s hands on his jaw and neck, John’s lips against his temple. The soft, slightly damp heat of John’s breath against Rodney’s skin. John didn’t reply and yet, it was more of an answer than Rodney had expected.


	11. Chapter 11

It was ridiculous. 

The entire story that John had told Rodney about the Wraith being trapped in some kind of Ancient portal for who knows how long only to emerge later as Wraith was ridiculous. 

Completely. 

But! If it _was_ true, what did that mean about dimensional space? 

Still. It couldn’t possibly be real. 

Nights spent with John always left Rodney’s brain working overtime, along with certain other parts of his body. He was young, he was male, things needed to be maintained. After jerking off twice though, Rodney still couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about John’s body next to his, the way John smelled, the way John stood. 

And inter-dimensional portals apparently. Rodney may be a young man, but he was also a scientist. The conundrum of how he felt about John may not be a puzzle he could solve, but by god, inter-dimensional portal? That was something he could work on. 

He tossed off the covers from his bed and went to his lab, not bothering to put anything else on other than the soft, worn t-shirt and boxers he wore to sleep. He erased everything on the whiteboard and then stared at it blankly, turning the pen over in his hand. 

What did he know? What could he prove? 

All right, the best way to start new work was with the basics. At the top of the board, Rodney wrote the simple equation for the arc length of a circle, s=r(theta). He started deriving all the other generally well known physics equations that most people just memorized. Rodney liked to start with the beginning and let his mind wander as he worked, deriving formulas he already knew but finding comfort and rhythm in the work. He was still working at it when Ronon stopped by to see why he hadn’t come to breakfast and then came back with a plate of food which Rodney ate distractedly while he filled up another whiteboard. 

Teyla stopped by with lunch, smiling as she saw Rodney working, bringing him a sandwich. 

“This does not appear to be your resistance and capacitor homework,” she said, eyeing his calculations. Rodney waved a hand, stuffing a big bite of sandwich in his mouth, chewing with his mouth open. 

“I can challenge the final on that class if I have to. I only do the labs because they’re fun and I like to watch the circuits fry,” he said dismissively. “This… this is going to be something.”

Teyla smiled. “You seem much more settled as of late. So does John.”

That finally made him look away from the whiteboard and at Teyla’s knowing look, he felt suddenly shy and cast his eyes downward. 

“I’m very happy that you’re both doing well,” she said simply. “You should get some rest. You might find you make more progress after some sleep. You do not look as if you got much last night.”

Rodney stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth in two bites and smoothed a hand over his hair which he could feel was standing out in all directions. “I’m fine. I just need some coffee.” 

“You should take a break. Perhaps have some water or go for a walk.”

Rodney stared at her. “Uh, no thanks. But if the cook makes any more sandwiches I’ll take a couple of those.” Teyla shook her head at him in the fond way she had that made him feel simultaneously chastised and loved. 

“I will check for you. I came up originally to see how you were doing and to pass along this.” She held out a piece of paper, folded over into some kind of closed origami envelope. Rodney frowned and unfolded it, squinting at the chicken scratch handwriting. It took him a moment to realize it was in the language of the Kindred and not in English. As soon as his brain recognized that, it was easy enough to read. 

_“I may not be able to make dinner tonight - J.”_

As notes went it was pretty short, but somehow, Rodney hadn’t really expected John to write dozens of lines for something simple. John had a message, he wrote it out. To be honest, while Rodney felt his heart sink a little that John may not be at dinner, he was inordinately pleased that he’d received a note from John himself indicating such. 

“He was called away on business,” Teyla clarified. “It’s uncertain how long it will take.”

“Will you or Ronon have to join him?” Rodney asked. They quite often accompanied John. 

Teyla inclined her head. “Perhaps. But, you should consider my advice - some rest or some exercise.”

Rodney was already turned back to the whiteboard. “What I need is Radek.” He picked up the phone and dialed Radek’s number quickly. He barely noticed Teyla leaving. “Radek. I have two words for you. Inter-dimensional portal. What? It is _so_ two words. Inter-dimensional is hyphenated but that’s still one word. Well, I don’t care what they call it in Czech, get over here. You can watch my brilliance and take notes for posterity’s sake.”

He felt Teyla touch him on the shoulder before she exited quietly out of the room while Radek was still ranting in Rodney’s ear about being interrupted while working on his university work and that Rodney was a tyrant. 

“A tyrant that’s going to win a Nobel and if you want a mention, you’ll get over here.” He slammed the phone down, trusting that Radek would be over shortly. 

He was.

Hours later, Rodney didn’t even know what time it was. Pizza boxes had arrived, somewhat magically Rodney thought, although Radek claimed that Ronon was the one that dropped them off along with a six pack of soda. 

The bottled water and tea were apparently from Teyla. Rodney was using the flat of water to hold his note pad. 

The room smelled of whiteboard marker and Rodney couldn’t tell if he was dizzy from the fumes or if that was just the lack of sleep and the need for caffeine talking. At some point it had gotten dark enough outside that they required all the lights and lamps to be turned on. It still didn’t keep Radek from falling asleep with his face mashed up against the side of one of the empty pizza boxes as he lay face down on the carpet. 

Wuss. Science was for heroes! Heroes that didn’t need to sleep. Although God Radek did look kind of comfortable asleep on the floor. 

Rodney grabbed a cold slice of pizza from a box and cracked open another soda. It was luke-warm by now but he wasn’t choosy. They couldn’t get the formulas to balance. He was never going to be able to solve the problem if he couldn't’ even get his three dimensional formulas to work. 

A knock at the door had him wiping his greasy fingers on his pants and looking up. John’s head came through the doorway and Rodney froze, pretty sure he had pizza sauce on his face. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be awake. It’s three in the morning.” John’s voice was soft and quiet, as though he didn’t want to make too much noise. 

Rodney immediately checked his wrist, upon which he was _not_ wearing a watch. “What? Oh my god we should be further along by now!” Rodney pushed to his feet, taking his soda and a couple of stray pieces of paper with him. 

“What have you got there?” John’s head jerked toward the whiteboard. 

“Your story, from last night? About the… the Wraith?” Rodney still had to force the word out. “I can’t stop thinking about that inter-dimensional portal and wondering… I mean, maybe it’s just a myth but what if it’s not.”

John’s eyes traveled over the whiteboard equations, the papers strewn about, the mess of food and debris from Rodney and Radek’s day. A smile curled at his lips. 

“I take you to an event full of Kindred and the one thing you remember best about it is a fable about the Wraith?” John teased. 

Rodney could feel himself blush. It wasn’t the thing he remembered best, not by a long shot. The thing he remembered best was the way John’s lips had felt pressed against Rodney’s temple and the smell of cedar chips deep in Rodney’s lungs. He saw John’s eyes dart over to him, as though he knew what Rodney was thinking. 

Rodney almost couldn’t get over just seeing John in his lab. Rodney didn’t even know if John had been in there before. Certainly not when Rodney had been there, but maybe he’d poked around, without Rodney’s knowledge?

Rodney nearly squawked in outrage when John picked up one of the whiteboard markers, the _red_ one and crossed something out on one of Rodney’s equations and then filled in a different set of symbols. Rodney shot forward, reaching to snatch the marker out of John’s hand. 

“You can’t do that! I’ve been working on - oh, I see. I didn’t realize that I’d forgotten to carry the constant through the equation. Oh my god.”

“‘s probably why it wouldn’t balance,” John replied, finishing the rest of the equation easily and Rodney’s eyes widened. If the equation now balanced, if it _worked_ -

“Oh my god, where is my-” Rodney started rooting through his papers. “Where did that damn Czech put his notes, the one with the-” Rodney flipped through a notebook. “Oh my god, now we can apply the theorem and-” he scrambled over a pile of books and kicked at Radek’s feet. “Wake up, you lazy philistine, I’ve fixed the math-”

John coughed behind Rodney and Rodney spared him a glance. “Okay, _John_ has fixed the math and we can apply the theorem now.” Radek stirred slightly, pushing himself up and feeling around for his glasses. He finally located them and slipped them on, jumping to his feet when he saw John. 

“Daeyevek, I didn’t know you were here,” he said, giving a little bow. John smiled at him while Rodney shoved a whiteboard marker into Radek’s hand. 

“Yes, yes,” Rodney said, rolling his eyes. “Swoon and prostrate yourself at his feet, but do it _later_. We’ve got to carry on with the calculations.” 

Radek seemed torn between John and the whiteboard and John chuckled. “I guess I’ll leave you two to it.”

Rodney was transcribing a section from his notepad to the board. “Hmmm? Oh, um. Yes. Thank you.” He was disappointed John was leaving but at the same time, it almost felt like there wasn’t enough room in his brain at the moment to think of that and focus on the equations. 

“I may need to attend to some other Kindred matters that have arisen and I’ll be needing Teyla’s assistance. Ronon will be staying here at the estate, with you.”

Rodney waved his hand, staring at the board, then his notes, then the board again. 

“Rodney,” John drawled. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, yes. Taking Teyla, leaving Ronon. Listen, how hard would it be to get me an underground lab?”

“Pardon?”

“Like, very underground. We need to have an atmosphere free of the cosmic radiation if we’re going to prove this. Say half a mile.”

“Half a mile? Underground?”

“Yes, aren’t you listening? Will I have to repeat everything?”

John started laughing. 

“Why are you laughing at that?” Rodney said, confused. “This could be revolutionary. Look if you can’t get me one, can you at least get me into someone else’s?” He looked at Radek. “Where is the closest one? Who runs it?”

“I believe there is one in Colorado. Cheyenne Mountain.”

Rodney turned to look at John expectantly and John just laughed. It made Rodney frown even deeper. John stepped closer to Rodney and before Rodney knew what was happening, John was in his space. 

John was kissing him. 

Rodney froze, body perfectly stock still, heart racing. He tried to catalogue the moment perfectly. John’s lips were warm and dry against his own. One of John’s hands was cupping his cheek, John’s other arm around Rodney. John’s lips smiling slightly against Rodney’s. John’s stubble brushing against the still smooth skin of Rodney’s jaw, John’s thumb rubbing against the spot where Rodney’s jawbone met his ear. 

Then John was pulling away, still laughing a bit and all Rodney could do was stand there and gape at him. 

“I’ll be back in a couple of days. Good luck on your equations. Good night, Radek. I hope you get some sleep. Both of you. 

And he was gone.   
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this may not be something you want to hear however many thousand words into the story we are, but! I think I know where I'm going with this now! lol. 
> 
> Again much thanks to my beta, herasmom, for being able to work on short notice! I'm a procrastinator and don't get her chapters until later in the week!


	12. Chapter 12

Radek was soft. Rodney didn’t care that they’d been working for two days straight and Radek claimed he needed to go home and sleep in a real bed. There were beds at the estate. Sure, Radek and Rodney mostly ended up falling asleep on a desk or the floor, but the fact of the matter was, beds did exist. 

Plus, Rodney kept waking up to find food placed next to him. It was kind of perfect. 

But on the evening of the second day, or maybe it was closer to the morning of the third (it was dark, and the house was quiet - Rodney didn’t actually know what the time was), Radek was giving up. Rodney was trying to get him to hang on and only take a break instead of heading home. He was hopeful he could sway Radek with some brownies and they were heading on their way to the kitchen to see if there were any about. 

“I shouldn’t even care if there _are_ brownies,” Radek mumbled. “I’m tired. I need clothes. This is madness. You will not change the laws of physics in two days.”

“Well, not with _that_ attitude I won’t,” Rodney retorted, trying to keep his voice hushed. His attention was grabbed by the light coming from under the door of the library. He shooed Radek onward to the kitchen, trying to turn a deaf ear to Radek’s protests that if there weren’t any brownies, he was going to take his bike home, even if it _was_ three in the morning. 

“Fine! I hope you freeze. I’ll be sure to mention you in the footnotes of my physics journal entries. On the last page. I’ll say, ‘Such a shame he let his life be dictated by things like sleep and food,’” Rodney hissed, _sotto voce_. 

Radek flipped him the bird and Rodney smirked. “Oh, great comeback.”

Without stopping to listen to Radek’s grumbling, Rodney headed toward the library. The light coming from under the doorway was just enough for him to see by. He hesitated by the door, hand above the handle, not sure if he should go in or not. It was pretty much a given that John would be in the library. Rodney had never seen anyone else in there, at least not so late. Ronon and Teyla were frequent visitors, but they didn’t tend to wander around at all hours. Of course, maybe John didn’t either, Rodney didn’t exactly know. But as he stood there, paused outside the door, he just _knew_ it was John on the other side. 

“You can come in, Rodney.”

John’s voice, coming through the doorway solidified it. Rodney turned the handle and pushed the door open. 

“You and Radek are up late. Or have you even gone to bed over the last couple of days?” John said laconically, one eyebrow raised. He sat behind a large oak desk off to one side of the library, two small lamps lighting the surface of the desk where he had a laptop and a few books out. 

Rodney jutted his chin out a bit. “Are you going to tell me to get some sleep?” he challenged. 

John smiled and shook his head. “No. You’ll sleep when you’re ready. No one ever died from working on a physics problem at all hours of the night.”

Rodney felt the wind fall out of his sails a bit. “Well, yes. I mean, you’re right.”

“And I’m sure you’ve been getting enough food from the kitchen. If I were going to put a halt to anything it would be feeding two young men. You both eat like your legs are hollow.” John’s tone was teasing and although Rodney supposed he could have been churlish and made a snarky comment [he was tired enough to], instead he just smirked and nodded in agreement. 

“Radek’s in the kitchen right now, checking for brownies.”

John nodded and then paused, as if he were listening. “Hmm. No brownies tonight. I think Cook made those oversized cookies instead.”

“Can you smell that?” Rodney asked, taking a sniff of the air himself. 

John laughed. “No. It’s Tuesday. Cook likes to make cookies on Tuesday.” He gave Rodney a look. “You don't ‘have the schedule memorized after all your years here?”

Rodney waved a hand, wandering over to a bookshelf and looking at the titles. “Everything’s good. It doesn’t really matter when it was made.” Rodney ran his fingers over the spines of some of the books. He was on the Kindred side of the library - a side he wasn’t really familiar with. He could read and speak Kindred but he avoided the Kindred books. At first he was too young and found it much easier to read in English rather than the stilted, often too formal Kindred language. Then, after his mother died, he’d just been angry. Looking at the books made him think of John, thinking of John made him think of being Chosen and being Chosen had felt like a trap and a burden. 

He was only just now starting to realize that it didn’t have to be. Maybe for some Chosen it was, but with John, maybe Rodney really could do or be anything.

He trailed a fingertip over the spines as he walked slowly. At one point he heard John pick up a phone and ask the driver to take Radek home. Rodney looked over sharply and John smirked. 

“I can hear him complaining in the kitchen that he hasn’t slept properly in days and you’re apparently a tyrant who won’t let him rest,” John said. “It’s late. He shouldn’t ride his bike home. “

“But did he find any cookies?” Rodney asked. John chuckled a bit, pushing back from his desk. 

“He did. I’ll see if I can steal one or two for you.”

One of the Kindred titles caught his eye and Rodney said absently, “And some milk. If you’re up anyway.”

“Yes, Rodney. Cookies and milk.”

Rodney grabbed the book off the shelf and flipped it open, skimming over the pages. One or two items caught his eye and he looked back on the shelf, grabbing two more books that seemed to be related. He glanced around the library and ended up sprawling on the floor, belly down, in front of the unlit fireplace. 

John came back moments later and without a word, set a plate of cookies down next to Rodney and a glass of milk. Rodney murmured a distracted thank you and kept reading. After a few more sections he looked up at John. 

John, seated back at his desk, seemed perfectly happy to continue what he was working on while Rodney lounged on the floor reading Kindred books. Rodney tapped his thumb absently against the books and John looked up. 

“These books,” Rodney began. “Are they… are these considered legitimate sources?”

John glanced quickly at what Rodney was reading and then nodded. “They are.”

“So these aren’t like the National Enquirer of Kindred books.”

John smiled again and Rodney realized he seemed to do that a lot in Rodney’s presence. “No, Rodney. I don’t keep books which would misinform readers in my library. I may keep some obscure or possibly as yet unproven books in here. Some on mythology and lore. But I don’t keep falsehoods lying around.”

Rodney frowned, looking back down at the text he’d been reading. 

“Is something bothering you?” John asked. 

Rodney looked back up at John. “You said the other day you were over four-hundred years old.”

“That’s correct. I’m four-hundred and thirty-seven.”

“I don’t know any Kindred older than you.”

John tipped his head slightly. “If there are, they’ve kept to themselves. The Wraith may possibly be older with their Hives and their hibernation sleep. It’s hard to say.”

Rodney hesitated, thumbing over the pages in the book. “It says here that Kindred who don’t have a Chosen don’t live longer than five-hundred.”

“They generally don’t,” John confirmed easily. “It’s been difficult to say what happens to them, scientifically or medically. The best we can figure is that they sort of waste away. It’s not clear why.”

“So, if you hadn’t Chosen me, would you have died?”

John nodded. “Probably.”

Rodney didn’t know how he felt about that admission. “Why did you wait so long to Choose?”

“It wasn’t a conscious decision, if that’s what you mean. Despite all the power that humans seem to ascribe to Kindred, we ironically have very little choice in who we Choose. We either find them or we don’t. It wasn’t as though I decided to wait as long as I did.”

“Could you have Chosen someone else?” Rodney asked, his voice quiet. He looked away, afraid of the answer. Was he some kind of a commodity that could be swapped in and out - traded for another model?

“No. I could not have.”

Although the answer should have been the one Rodney wanted, it still confused him. “Why not?”

“It could be no one but you.”

It was eerily similar to something Teyla had said to him many years ago and it was still an unclear and almost illogical answer. 

“But why?”

John did laugh this time, probably in response to Rodney’s tone. Even to himself he sounded like a toddler.

“There was never anyone I wanted to Choose before you.”

“Are you deliberately trying to be difficult?” Rodney asked, unsatisfied with the answer. John, still chuckling, shook his head. 

“No, I suppose to you it sounds very obtuse and vague, but I never wanted to Choose anyone before you and had considered that I would never Choose anyone. And then, that day at the park, when you feel through the ice…” John paused a bit, as though remembering. “I heard the crack of the ice and although I have exceptional hearing, it seemed quite loud to me. It drew my attention and I realized what had happened - someone had fallen through and there didn’t seem to be anyone around who noticed. I believe your Grandmother was watching you that day, but you were far from her sight. I didn’t see her at the time.”

Rodney vaguely remembered he’d wandered away from her. He had a tendency to do that when Grandmother had watched him as she didn’t generally pay much attention. 

“Most Kindred don’t care enough to get involved with human things,” Rodney said, fumbling for something to say. 

“I’m not most Kindred,” John replied. “It wasn’t until I was underwater and found you that I felt… I thought…” he paused, seeming frustrated. He shook his head. “I got you out of the water and you weren’t breathing. I know enough about humans and their medicine to at least get you breathing before I got you to the hospital and once there, I just said you were my Chosen. I hadn’t realized it but as soon as I said, it, I knew it.”

Rodney looked back down at the book, flipping through the pages, pretending it was an idle habit even when it wasn’t. “It says here that Chosen can be Kindred too. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t expect John to answer to quickly or unequivocally. Rodney wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though John had ever lied or toyed with him. 

“Does that mean you can Choose a Kindred, or does that mean you can turn a human?”

“Both,” John answered. Rodney felt his heart rate speed up, thumping madly in his chest. 

“Will you turn me?” It was a question he’d always wanted answered but that no one ever seemed to know. Did being Chosen mean you would be Turned?

John paused, staring at Rodney. “Do you want to be Turned?”

Rodney’s mouth open and closed a few times and he could feel his face getting flushed and hot. “I… I don’t know.”

“I imagine the human media makes being Kindred seem like a fairy tale - long life, wealth, notoriety.”

“Don’t forget extraordinarily good looking,” Rodney mumbled and then blushed when John raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh come on! You know you’re good-looking with the floppy hair and the eyes.” He fiddled with the seam of his pant leg, desperate for something else to focus on. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

“It’s nice to hear it from you, Rodney.” John’s voice was smooth and soft and Rodney couldn't look up, sure that his face was flaming pink with how hot it felt. 

John continued, “I was going to say that being Kindred comes with its own… burdens.”

“Like what?”

John shrugged. “Like watching the world pass you by. Like watching people you know and care for get older and then die. Like having to continually adapt to new surroundings. Darwin said it’s not the smartest that survive, but the most adaptable and that’s true for Kindred as well. Some souls aren’t meant for a long life. Some let hatred and anger rot them from the inside out. Some let the power and influence go to their head and forget that just because humans don’t live as long as we, doesn’t mean they’re not important. Some people just shouldn’t be given that amount of power.”

Rodney took a deep breath. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Would you Turn me?”

John didn’t say anything for a moment and Rodney felt his heart and stomach sink. This was it. John was finally going to let him down. Rodney may be Chosen but it wasn’t as though John wanted Rodney with him forever. Only for the blip that would be Rodney’s lifetime. Then Rodney could die and John could live on as he wished. 

“Only if you wish it. And… only….” John’s voice trailed off and he looked serious and solemn. “Not everyone survives the Turning, Rodney.”

Rodney blinked a few times. He hadn’t known that. In fact, he wasn’t even really sure what being Turned entailed. No one knew. The media speculated on it constantly but no Kindred, not the Wraith, not the Goa’ould, not the Deava would ever comment on how a Kindred was made from a mortal. 

“It can be fatal?”

“It’s always fatal. You’ll die as a mortal, no matter what happens. If you turn, however, you’ll re-emerge as a Kindred. But either way, your mortal life is over.” John let his words sink in. “You would have to be sure, Rodney. Sure that it was what you wanted. And I admit, we are so… new in our… acquaintance, that I don’t believe I’m ready to take that chance with you.”

John didn’t want to turn Rodney because he might die. Of course, Rodney didn’t want to die either, so at least they were both on the same page for that! But… instead of feeling like he’d gotten all the answers he’d been looking for, Rodney felt as if a heavy weight had settled on his shoulders. 

“But I’d have to decide someday.”

John nodded. “Yes.”

“So, you’d watch me get old and die, try to Turn me and watch me die, or Turn me.”

“Yes.”

“What are the statistics on that?”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, has someone been keeping track? Is there some data I can review to see what the odds are?”

John’s lips curled in a slight smile. “No, no data, I’m afraid.”

Rodney’s chin jutted out. “That’s incredibly short-sighted of Kindred.”

“I suppose it is.”

Rodney bit the skin of his lip a bit. He had one more question for tonight. “When I was younger, at my ceremony, Todd said that if your Chosen dies, if I die, other than by your hand, you lose your power.”

“Yes. If you were to be killed while being my Chosen, I have to forfeit everything. It would be akin to showing the world that I lacked the strength and resources to keep my Chosen safe.”

“But if I died from you trying to Turn me, that’s not true?”

“No. If you die by my hand, I forfeit nothing.”

“Is that _just_ because of the Turning or do Kindred have a habit of killing off their Chosen?”

“Unfortunately, a bit of both. Some Kindred, in the past, have killed their Chosen. Generally for political reasons. But I would never harm you, Rodney.”

Rodney swallowed. He believed John, but then part of him wondered if he was a fool for believing him. He looked back down at the book, flipping through the pages absently, not really reading any of the words. 

“So it’s my choice if I want to be Turned or not?” Rodney asked, needing the clarity, needing to hear it one more time. 

“Yes,” said John, his voice steady and sure. 

Rodney thought it would make him feel better knowing the decision was totally in his own hands. 

But it didn’t. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, NO ONE is more surprised by the LACK OF PORN than me. I thought they would have gotten it on by now but instead there are FEELINGS and GETTING TO KNOW ONE ANOTHER. 
> 
> Seriously. Totally thought there'd be porn. Heck, I thought I'd be done this story by now!
> 
> Big thanks, as always, to my beta, herasmom - I keep giving her less and less time to beta! I spend a lot of the week wondering what happens next myself and then try to write it thurs-Sat!


	13. Chapter 13

“I do not think the world is ready for an immortal Rodney McKay. God help us,” Radek mumbled. His hair was all akimbo from running his hands through it. Radek managed to stay away from the estate for a full 48 hrs before Rodney managed to coax him back with the promise of glory and Nobel prizes. 

“Hardee har-har. You’re just jealous,” Rodney said, erasing the entire whiteboard so he could start over. Again. He knew there was something he was missing, he just had to keep at it. “Think of the discoveries I could make. Think of the technological breakthroughs I could facilitate. Or you know what? I don’t even have to help discover all of them. As long as I can exploit them.”

“Or you could drop dead from the procedure.” Rodney winced at Radek’s tone. The Czech, while belligerent, had a point. “How does it work anyway?”

Rodney mumbled an answer, facing the board while he did it. 

“What?”

“I said I don’t know,” Rodney exclaimed. “I didn’t ask.”

Radek’s eyes went wide and he pushed his glasses up further on his nose. “You had a chance to find out more Kindred knowledge and you did not ask?”

Rodney fiddled with the dry erase pen. “No, I didn’t ask.” The truth was, Rodney kind of was afraid of finding out. He could admit it. He still remembered his Choosing Ceremony when he was younger - he remembered getting blood drawn and watching while John drank it down, his teeth stained red and gory. Would John have to drink all of Rodney’s blood? Would Rodney have to drink John’s? He grimaced. He wasn’t sure he was there yet. 

“Why not?”

Rodney huffed and before he could think too much about it, he blurted, “Look, I’m just worried about the exchange of bodily fluids, all right? It hardly seems sanitary.”

Radek smirked. “I assume you are talking about blood because I sense that if it were other bodily fluids you were discussing you would not be so hesitant.” He waggled his eyebrows at Rodney and Rodney felt himself flush furiously.

“Some of us are trying to _work_ here,” he grumbled, giving Radek his back so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. Radek, though Rodney couldn’t admit it, was about a thousand percent correct, if such a thing could exist. Since Rodney had known what sexual attraction was, he knew he had it for John. When he had been angry with John, it had been all twisted up inside Rodney - resentment, hard feelings and animosity coiled up and intimate with physical lust and longing. It had confused the hell out of him. 

It still confused the hell out of him sometimes - the lust and the longing. The resentment and animosity had died down after he’d gotten to know John a bit better. But the thought of doing… anything with John was heady. In Rodney’s mind, though they had touched casually a few times, there were two exchanges that stood out the most. 

The first was when John had pressed his lips against Rodney’s temple. Though chaste, Rodney had been in John’s immediate space - surrounded by John’s body and his presence. The second had been when John kissed Rodney before leaving. The press of his lips against Rodney’s, the brush of John’s stubble against Rodney’s still rather smooth chin. Both those moments, though comparatively small, were enough to make something clench low and hard in Rodney’s gut and if he didn’t stop thinking about them both right now and focus on physics, he was going to embarrass himself in front of Radek. 

Speaking of Radek, Rodney glanced over at him at saw Radek fidgeting a bit with one of his pencils, turning the stumpy bit of wood around and around in his fingers - a habit Radek only had when he was nervous. 

“What?” Rodney asked. 

Radek shrugged, not looking up. “Do you want to be Kindred?” Radek’s voice was quiet - so quiet that if Rodney hadn’t been listening, he might not have heard. 

That was the big question. Did Rodney _want_ to be Kindred? 

He didn’t know. 

It sounded pretty fucking cool at first blush. While Kindred were often spoken of as immortal, they were actually just incredibly long-lived. John’s age was the best example of that. At four-hundred thirty-seven, he was the oldest Kindred Rodney knew of. So, Kindred could and did die. 

Maybe not the Wraith. Now that he thought about it, Rodney wasn’t totally sure about them. They had their hibernation - long periods of time when they would retreat into their hives to leap-frog forward in time. Rodney shuddered wondering what went on in those hives during that time. 

But, Rodney would be Kindred like John - long-lived, but presumably not immortal. How long lived? Rodney wasn’t sure. While Rodney was currently at the age where all young men and women considered themselves immortal and immune to danger, his intellect didn’t allow him to think like most of his peers. Rodney could imagine being older as a Kindred, being long-lived, watching as everyone else he know around him got older. 

Got older and died. 

Maybe even John. He was already old by Kindred standards. How much longer would he live? 

But the science! The science was an attractive carrot dangling in front of Rodney. Just thinking about the advancements he could live through, the things he could see be invented or discovered. Discoveries and inventions he could make himself. Oh, the science was pornographic in its lure and enticement. 

Of course, it would all be for nothing if Rodney died from being Turned. He needed to do more research. He needed to know more about what happened, about others who had tried and maybe, hadn’t succeeded. 

He needed more information from John. 

In the end, he could only shrug one shoulder, as though Radek’s question were inane or commonplace. 

“I don’t know,” he said, mumbling the words, sketching out the start of some new equations on the board. “Maybe.” Rodney’s eyes darted over to Radek and he saw his own concerns and questions in his friend’s face. Radek was smart - a compliment and a curse Rodney didn’t bestow on any other human he knew. Not as smart as Rodney, but still, damn smart. Radek probably knew exactly what was going on in Rodney’s head. Radek’s head bobbed slowly in acknowledgement. 

Writing out equations always calmed Rodney and he soon found his emotions pushed down deep by the demands of his intellect as he began working through the new series of equations that he and Radek were struggling with. 

“Would you?” Rodney blurted out, unaware he was going to say the words until they fell from his mouth. “Want to be Turned?” he added unnecessarily when Radek paused. 

“For myself, I do not know either. The Daeyevek seems like a good man. If such a term may still be applied to Kindred. If he were Wraith or Goa’ould, the answer would surely be no. But,” Radek continued, “I’ve not seen you mistreated, nor myself. Nor anyone who is within his reach. Not that we know of. But this lifestyle,” Radek gestured around the room, but Rodney knew he really meant the estate, the money, the notoriety. “This lifestyle is not for me. I would not want it. But if you want it, there is nothing wrong with that either. But I would want to know first what is involved.”

Radek ended his mini-speech with a half-shrug - the same thing he did when he was presenting physics theorems or proofs that he knew to be correct and true. Almost as if to say, ‘you see it clearly yourself, do you not’?

And that was part of the problem. Rodney did see it clearly. Sometimes he felt like he saw it too clearly. Radek was right however, Rodney needed more information. 

Now that he had started reading the Kindred books, Rodney felt as though some invisible seal had been broken and he spent far more time on the Kindred side of the library than the other side. He and Radek still worked diligently on their portal physics, but Rodney still found time to go to the library, pulling books off the shelves. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. At times, he felt like he was clearly dedicated to research on portals, on Wraith, on their mythology - anything to give Rodney and Radek a clue as to how to proceed. Other times, Rodney was drawn to books on Daeva mythology, on reviewing journals for any mention of Turning or of Chosen. 

Once a large tome caught his eye and he’d read nearly three pages before he realized the entire thing was poetry dedicated from Daeva to their Chosen. He wanted to scoff and toss the book aside, finding no real scientific purpose in it. Instead he ended up stretched out on the floor on his stomach, flipping through the entire thing, finding small illustrations and notations in the margins here and there. He ran his fingertips over the scrawling notes, wondering who left them - if they were from some unknown Kindred, or if they were from John. Once or twice, John would come into the library when Rodney was there, usually after Radek had gone home or fallen asleep, or once after a fight over which way to direct the proof that ended with them throwing whiteboard pens, erasers and then notably, a lamp (damn, Radek had good aim). John stepped into the library and paused, coming over to Rodney immediately, hunkering down and touching a light finger to the bump on Rodney’s head. 

“Where did you get this?”

Rodney batted his hand away. “That crazy Czech. I’ve probably got a sub-dermal hematoma, or a cracked skull. He threw a lamp at me, a lamp!” Rodney raged, flipping through the book he’d grabbed today - one on creation myths of Goa’ould. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as the Wraith. 

“What did you say that warranted that?” John asked, smoothing Rodney’s hair over the bump. It should have hurt, Rodney should have flinched away. But instead, there was something very calming and soothing about it. 

“Why do you assume I said anything that warranted that?” Rodney squawked in outrage, glaring up at John. John rocked back on his heels a bit, smirking at Rodney. 

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Fine. I told him that if he wasn’t going to bother using his brain anymore, there was a possibility we could swap it out for monkey brains at some kind of fancy Kindred dinner.”

John barked out a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners and Rodney couldn’t help but smile as well. 

“Buddy, I think that might have deserved something being thrown at you. Not sure I would have gone with a lamp. Maybe you’re lucky it wasn’t a knife.”

John’s fingers on his hair were distracting and Rodney found all he could do was sort of stare up at John as he looked down at him. When John finally pulled back, it took Rodney several blinks to remind himself where he was. In the library, reading a book. 

“What have you got there?” John asked. 

“Goa’ould myths. Looking for science-y bits but…” Rodney shrugged with one shoulder, looking back down at the book. “It seems like a lot of parables and posturing. ‘I’m a god, you must bow down and fear me or I will pull the sun out of the sky.’” Rodney made a face. “But no one ever seems to have any tech that will actually do it.”

John smirked a bit. “Yeah, they like their shiny bits and bobs. You would think after two thousand years that they would have changed some but…” He shrugged - a sort of mirror of Rodney’s earlier one. 

“Do you have a lot to do with Goa’ould?” Rodney asked. 

“Some. Some with Wraith too. Some with other Daeva.”

Rodney turned the pages of his book, reading over a passage again. “This book says that the Goa’ould came to Earth from somewhere else, somewhere far away, from the stars.”

John tipped backward a bit and sat down cross-legged in front of Rodney. “That’s their myth, yes. They claim they’re gods, come down to live with mortals on Earth. They say they came through some kind of doorway to heaven.”

“Is it true?”

John shrugged again, lips turning down a bit. “Could be, I guess.”

“But you’ve never seen anything that could prove it.”

“No. But I’ve never seen anything that disproves it either.”

Rodney frowned, looking back at the book. 

“Kindred books aren’t known for revealing truths and telling all the minutiae of what happened. And they’re just as likely to get re-written and glossed over as human texts. Just because we live a lot longer doesn’t make us better writers of history.”

“Are there any books about Turning?”

John inclined his head. “There are, but, given what I’ve just told you, are you sure you want to read them?”

Rodney jutted his chin out. “I want the information, yes.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have the information, only that you should be sure you want to read the books. You could just ask.”

Rodney felt his cheeks flush a bit at John’s words and the look in his eyes. Sometimes… sometimes Rodney forgot that he _could_ ask. Rodney was so used to getting his information from books and his studies that he forgot he could ask questions and get them answered without having to go searching the answers for himself. He looked back down at the book for a moment and then, decisively, closed it. He sat up, facing John on the floor. 

“Tell me about Turning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, herasmom, for the quick turnaround! Any remaining mistakes are mine.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - there are elements of non-con in this chapter. It's not sex, but it does have to do with bodily autonomy. Please see the end notes for more details or email me [zoemathemata@live.ca]

~Interlude~

Scavenging around in the kitchens looking for scraps was hardly how the heir apparent to his father’s title was supposed to spend his day, but John Sheppard did not care. 

The cook was a stern, cruel man who would turn John over to his father if he found him, but John was skinny and quick; easily able to filch a few sweet buns and some meat before he was even noticed. 

He ran out the back door of the castle, hands stuffed (not as much as his mouth), ducking low to avoid being seen. He grinned, savoring the taste of the sweet bread and bun, tasting all the better for having been stolen. 

At eighteen he was far too old to still be sneaking around the estate, pilfering goods like a school-boy but old habits die hard. The fact that it angered and alienated his father was just icing on the proverbial cake. 

His father droned on endlessly about how John needed to act more like a man of his station. How John’s foolish habits were cute at eight years, charming at fourteen, but at eighteen were becoming embarrassing socially and politically for his father. If John were to take over the title, he must act as though it were already his. 

There was to be no debate about John taking the title. No matter how much John did not want it. 

David would be far better suited to the estate. David with his somber face and his eager willingness to be the man their father expects John to be. David with his angry eyes that track John, that judge John and covet the estate that John chose to eschew.

Last month, after John had failed to attend a business meeting at his father’s invitation, he and his father had yelled at each other for what seemed like hours. His father demanding that John be married off and produce an heir, start taking over the books, start running the estate. John shouting that he cared nothing for their lifestyle. His father yelling that John should be grateful for the very lifestyle he claimed to abhor. John hollering that he’d just as soon give it all up. John’s father threatening to cut John off if he didn’t do as he was told. John counter-threatening that he wouldn’t care if he were cut off - that he would and could walk away from it all. His father retorting that he’d have every soldier in the state after him if he so much as tried to leave. John finally yelled that if his father was so goddamned worried about the estate, he should turn the whole lot of it over to David. David’s eyes, forever watching his older brother and his father argue, had lit up at the prospect and then gone cold and flat quickly when their father exclaimed that it was John’s duty to run the estate and by God if there were one thing Sheppard’s did, it was their duty. 

John hated the word. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a good son, a good man. It was that he couldn't reconcile that with the minutiae of the estate. With being a socialite. With going to the gaming houses and smoking cigars with white-haired old crows. Getting married to a woman he didn’t love and securing an heir. Everything about a gentleman’s lifestyle was false and fake to John. Making jokes about society around a smoky card table, giving sly eyes to other estate holders regarding children springing up from their servants, complaining about a wife and children at home, spending money on marble and house furnishings while in the streets of the city, people starved. 

Duty wasn’t the word that came to mind when John thought about the estate. Burden, yes. But duty, no. 

So he escaped. To the livery, to the servants quarters, to the fields, to the city. Anything to get away from the weight of the estate hanging about his neck. A weight that had been steadily getting heavier and heavier since John passed his eighteenth birthday last month. His father was making grand statements about John taking over aspects of the business. John suspected the only reason he hadn’t yet turned anything over was that John had declared the first thing he would do would be to sell off their interest in the gaming hall or at the very least, if that were not possible, donate their proceeds to the poor house. While Patrick Sheppard wanted his son to take over the business, he’d be damned if he would let his son give it away as soon as it was done. 

Stalemate. 

John wandered off the estate land, his stomach full enough from the rolls and the bread that he wouldn’t have to worry about dinner for some time. He was careful enough to not wear the clothing of a fine estate-man - trundling along in his slacks and a white shirt. With his scuffed up boots and his raven’s nest hair, he looked like any other young man coming in from the country, possibly in search of work in the city. 

The tenants of the land were happy enough to see him. They’d seen him grow from a boy, known his sparse, yet genuine smile. Known his kindness and generosity as opposed to his father’s penny-pinching and generally unscrupulous behavior. John tossed an extra roll he filched to one of the younger boys that was out working in the field. The lad smiled and stuffed it greedily in his mouth, calling out his thanks and tacking on John’s title at the end. My Lord. John winced. 

“Just John is fine.”

The boy grinned wider, teeth covered in stray bits of bread and nodded. 

The day was hot and by the time John reached the city, he was sweaty and a little dirty from the walk. His father would likely hear of John’s trip by the time he walked home at the end of the day and berate John for not dressing up, for not taking the carriage, for not making appointments in the city to stop in and see various acquaintances, or to check in on their investments. John scowled. He ducked down a slim alley, blocked in on either side by large stone walls, as though the rock buildings of the city could protect him from the future argument he’d have with his father. 

Perhaps he should do as he threatened and leave altogether. Certainly, John had given enough thought to running away when he was younger. Just… disappear. In the city or across the countryside and then who knows where. Some place where the name John Sheppard didn’t mean anything. Outrun his father’s money and reach. 

He stopped off at a tavern, had a few drinks with some young lads like himself. Working guys who had no idea that they sat next to the next estate master of the largest land holding in the district. John ducked his head and kept his opinions to himself mostly - laughing when they laughed, agreeing along with their tales, nodding when it was expected and heartily disagreeing when the situation called for. 

He loved the anonymity of it all. 

Feeling daring, he stayed far later than he normally would. It was well past midnight by the time he decided to call it a night and start the long walk home. The air was cool now, a shock from the balmy interior of the tavern but John didn’t mind. Feeling loose and relaxed, more-so than he had in a long time, he ambled down the cobblestones, his body swaying slightly as his feet tread over the uneven ground. The sky was a blanket of black above him, pinpricked with starlight and he stopped just at the city limits to stare, neck exposed at the immenseness of it. With a heavy sigh, he continued on home. 

The sound of horse-hoofs carried far down the road, alerting him to the oncoming carriage long before it was within his site. With the moon full and bright, John had no problem seeing the road beneath his feet, but seeing far ahead to the sleek, black hackney traveling leisurely into the city was another thing entirely. John kept to the side, well off the road, knowing his father would likely blame him if he were to be run over by the horses - no doubt imagining it another way of getting out of his ‘duty.’

John stopped as the carriage pulled up next to him and slowly rocked to a halt. The driver sat stock still in his seat, not even looking down at John as the wheels stopped turning. 

“Hello,” John said. “Need some help?”

The driver didn’t answer but John heard the sliding of a window opening and then a voice came from the carriage, seemingly riding upon darkness. 

“I thought that was you, John. You shouldn’t be out so late and on a dark road as well. You never know what’s lurking in the night.”

John smiled as he recognized the voice and the slightly teasing tone it had. “Lady Athar, I would say the same for you.” John stepped closer to the carriage, seeing Lady Chaya Athar’s face poking out from the window, the moonlight striking her features making her look strange and otherworldly. 

She smiled. “I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m well protected.”

John thought she must mean her carriage driver, a solemn, still man that John never saw smile or move with less than economical military precision. He leaned an elbow against the carriage casually, tipping his head closer so he could see Lady Athar better. She was extraordinarily beautiful. John knew his ‘crush’ (for lack of a better word) on Lady Chaya was probably rather foolish but she seemed not to mind. He was only eighteen and while John didn’t know her exact age, she was definitely older than he - old enough to have been married and widowed. John often rallied against his father’s wishes that he choose a bride and settle down but if he could marry Lady Athar, John thought he just might do it. The Athar estate was massive and Lady Chaya ran it by herself after her husband succumbed to some kind of wasting sickness. John remembered being a young boy, fascinated by what seemed to be her fragile beauty as her husband wasted away. 

Lady Chaya seldom went out during the day, claiming the black of her mourning robes was too difficult to bear under the heat of the sun. John often ran into her in the late evening along the road - she often took her carriage for long rides across the country, claiming that as a widow, there wasn’t much by way of entertainment but a long carriage ride was perfectly respectable. 

“Even so, you should be careful,” John enthused. “I hear there have been some animal attacks in some of the pastures. Cows and horses killed.”

“I assure you, John. I’m quite safe. Now, tell me, what has you alone on this road at night?”

“Just enjoying the walk.”

Lady Chaya’s hand came out of the carriage, slim and white in the moon’s light. “Did you have another disagreement with your father?”

Lady Chaya had found John storming down the road often enough over the last few years, angry after another argument with his father that she well knew about the disagreements between them. John should know better than to trouble a lady of her status with his youthful tales, but he found in her presence it was often difficult to keep his thoughts to himself. Likely her sympathetic face drove him to share details he’d generally not. She was often able to coax his feelings out of him, nodding sympathetically as he detailed his battles with his overbearing father. 

John sighed. “The usual.”

She patted his arm. “You should come for a carriage ride with me, John. The night air will do you well.”

He should say no. It wasn’t exactly proper of him to ride with her, even though she was a widow. If they were going to a function or he were properly escorting her somewhere, then maybe it would be all right, but it was past midnight and just aimlessly driving around. If people found out, they might gossip. 

“I can see the wheels of your head turning, John. There is no need for propriety now. We’ll hardly be seen this late at night. Besides, you’re a respectable young man, aren’t you, John? And I’m an old widow now,” she said, with a wink of her eye. “I assume, there’s no need to fear for my reputation, is there?”

He grinned, somewhat bashful at her candor. She disappeared from sight, sliding backward further into the carriage. The carriage door swung open, it’s hinges silent and smooth. Just as John placed his first foot on the step, he felt a chill run down his spine. He shuddered and passed it off as the cooling of his body as the night air brushed over his skin. 

The inside of the carriage was dark, so dark that he couldn’t really make out her figure as she sat across from him. John settled down into his seat and Lady Chaya wrapped three times on the roof of the carriage with her knuckles, signaling the driver. The carriage lurched into movement, causing John to rock and sway with its motion. 

“Come now, John. Let us become closer friends.”

***

It was so easy to talk to Lady Chaya. She listened to John. She didn’t interrupt him, didn’t contradict him. At times she would ask a question to perhaps clarify something he’d said but John felt like he was really being _heard_. It wasn’t like with his father, where John got the impression that while his father was in the room and though he was engaged in a dialogue with John, he wasn’t actually listening - not truly caring what his eldest son had to say, only waiting for his own chance to speak. Or yell. 

But when Lady Chaya nodded her head and looked at him, John felt like she was truly understanding what he was saying. It was only more confirmed when she would speak. 

“John, you seem very troubled by the thought of taking over the estate. I imagine you’d be quite happy if you didn’t have to have anything to do with it.”

John felt profound relief. “Yeah.”

The carriage, with its strange lurching motion and dark interior, seemed like a little world of its own - safe and apart from everything else. The small lamp of the carriage interior cast a glowing halo around everything, making it fuzzy and indistinct. 

 

“And what if you didn’t have to? What would you do?”

John sighed. “I don’t know. Anything. Everything. Maybe see the world.”

“That would be something you wanted? To see the world in all its glory and horror?”

John frowned at her choice of words. “I don’t know that horror is a word I would pick…”

“Oh, but it is true, John. The world can be a horrible, horrid place. Full of things that will disgust and shock you. Would you be prepared for that?”

John tried to think about her words. Lady Chaya was always so kind to listen to John and think on his words carefully, that he felt the same obligation toward her. 

“I think I would gladly accept some horror if it meant freedom. That’s a compromise I could make.”

She smiled again, but it wasn’t the quiet, ladylike smile he was used to seeing from her. This smile made the back of his neck tingle and an almost sick feeling settle in his stomach. Suddenly, she looked feral, her eyes no longer mysterious but instead cold and hard. Without conscious thought, he pressed himself back against the seat of the carriage, trying to put more distance between them. 

“Dear John, I was hoping you would say something like that.”

John had a moment of confusion before she lurched forward, her movement unnatural and stilted. Her mouth widened and he thought he must be hallucinating as he saw sharp pointed canines fall from the roof of her mouth, glistening and shiny in the dull light. His hands came up to push her away and he was shocked by the strength in her body, in her arms and then, her _teeth_. They slid through the flesh of his neck and in a moment of clairvoyance he saw the mutilated cow from the neighbor’s estate - its neck a torn mess of blood and tissue. He was pushing, pressing against her and the impossible strength of her held him down, his body contorting painfully as they struggled. He could feel her tongue moving against his neck and it was _wrong_ and _disgusting_ and no matter how much he wanted away from his father’s estate, away from his life of duty, he never meant anything like this, he never wanted anything like this. Her lips sucked against his skin and she _pulled_ and it felt like she was yanking him out of his body, spooling the essence of him and tugging it out, leaving nothing but a vacuum in its wake. 

He saw flashing spots before his eyes, reminiscent of the time he was thrown from a horse and hit his head, losing consciousness for several moments. The rocking motion of the carriage was making him sick, his body felt cold and wet. He wanted to shiver, he wanted to push her away, feeling like she was violating his body, his person, but there was nothing he could do. His could distantly feel his fingers flexing and moving, trying to get up the strength to continue to push at her. 

She pulled back and he was slumped down on the seat, sprawled like a broken toy, unable to move. Her mouth was red, her teeth blood stained, her eyes dark slits. 

“Don’t worry, John. It will be so much more than you imagined.”

He tried to tell her no, tried to tell her to stop, but even to his own ears, all he managed was a weak sort of moan. She raised a hand and wrapped twice on the roof of the carriage. 

“Stop the carriage, Anatole. We’ve got a Turning to complete.”

John couldn’t move. His body was a thing - weighted and heavy, completely separated from his brain. He tried to shuffle away from the carriage driver, Anatole, as he lifted John from the carriage, slinging him over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Nothing happened. John hung off the other man’s shoulder, a dead weight. It was cold outside now - or maybe that was just John - feeling cold and clammy. Blood loss, he thought. All he could see was the back of Anatole’s dark coat. All he could smell was the metallic copper scent of his own blood. All he could feel was the pressure of Anatole’s shoulder digging into John’s gut, the fabric of his jacket against John’s face. 

But John’s ears worked fine. He could hear Lady Athar’s steps [not Chaya now, not Lady Chaya - how could he have ever been so familiar with such a thing, such a creature - for surely she wasn’t mortal]. Her feet were light on the ground compared to Anatole’s more lumbering heavy steps. They were walking into the crop fields along the side of the road - the shrubbery and trees that John knew so well now seemed foreign and cloying from his angle and predicament. 

“I’m so glad we ran into each other tonight, John,” Lady Athar’s voice carried across the tops of the crop fields, slinking along like a foul stench on the wind. “You know, I’ve been thinking of Turning you for some time, but it was still a hard decision to make. I worried you’d end up being one of those young fops - all posing and preening, no substance. You’ve shown yourself to be remarkably well learned and charming. Of course, you’re handsome as if the devil himself blessed you as well. While it’s not necessary, it certainly doesn’t hurt.”

John thought he might be sick. The swaying, the blood loss, the words coming from her mouth - he wasn’t sure what the cause would be, only that his stomach’s contents may make an appearance. 

“Here is fine, Anatole. Thank you. Please wait for me by the carriage.”

John was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, limbs flailing around his body like a broken doll. Lady Athar’s face came in front of his own, her mouth still stained red. 

“Turning is difficult, John. I have great hopes for you, but you must be strong. Not everyone survives. I need your will to be iron tonight. You must want to live.”

Oh, John wanted to live all right, if only so he could tear her foul head from her neck. He thought he might have managed a sneer at her but instead of seeming offended or put out, she merely looked happy and pleased. 

“There you go - I see your fighting spirit now. Keep it close, John. You can’t even imagine all the things you’ll be capable of. Speed, strength, persuasion, affluence.” She ran her hand down the side of his face. “All you’ll have to do is set your mind on something and you can have it. It’s wonderful. So long as you survive Turning.”

She pulled something out of her skirts - a long, thin blade - more like an stiletto than a sword. It was silver in the moonlight, shining and ominous. John could feel his heart beating fast and out of time, his world was getting fuzzy on the edges. He was dying. He could feel everything slipping away from him as he lay there on the dirt. Lady Athar held the stiletto up to her chest and using only one hand, drove it in upwards, underneath her breast-bone, deep into her chest where her heart would be. 

That is, if she still had one. 

She didn’t make a sound, not even when she wiggled it a bit in her chest and then pulled it out. John couldn’t blink, couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of the thin, sharp instrument being pulled out of her chest, covered in a dark liquid. 

“Heart blood - not exactly easy to extract, but necessary.” 

She poised the sharp edge of the instrument against John’s chest and he could feel the fear and adrenaline flood his system as he realized what she meant to do, what was going to happen. She pushed and a low, keening sound broke free from his mouth as the stiletto slid in, under his own bones, through the tissue. His lungs gasped involuntarily insomuch as they could and he wanted to shut his eyes. Surely this would kill him, surely you couldn’t survive something like this, no matter how much he wanted to live only so he could kill Lady Athar. 

A calculating look crossed her face and she wobbled the sharp edge in his body, causing another low moan to rupture out from his lips, chased by blood. 

“Your heart will be in time with mine now, John. You’ll be Daeva, like me. I’ll teach you about Goa’ould and Wraith, perhaps even tell you what I know about the Fae or the Shifters. I have a feeling you’ll be quite powerful. They say it’s impossible to tell before someone is turned how they will fare, but I’ve always had a bit of a sixth-sense, even before I was Turned myself. We’ll travel the world - old cities, new worlds. You’ll see things you can’t even dream of. I’ll show you how to feed, how to live as Kindred. For that’s what we are now. Kindred, John. Made from my blood, as I was made from my maker’s blood. Though I don’t believe you’re quite like a Chosen to me, you are something akin, John.”

John didn’t understand. All he knew was it _hurt_. Pain started spreading out from his heart, like a spider web of agony. It slowly seeped into his chest and started pulsing through his body with each slow, sluggish beat of his heart. Lady Athar slid the stiletto out of his chest and his torso arced up slightly with it, the suction pulling his body slightly off the ground before he landed back with a thud and a ripple of pain throughout his flesh. 

“Be strong, John,” she said, wiping the blade on his shirt before it disappeared back into her skirts. I cannot see you through this first night. A Kindred’s first night is one of solitude and agony. You must resist death. It will chase you through the night, through the sunrise tomorrow and until darkness falls again.”

Lady Athar stood, staring down at him. “One more ritual to assist you through the evening - a burial. Burying your former body, your former life, preparing you for your new one as Daeva.” She raised her hand, held it in front of her and spoke in a strange language - consonants harsh and brutal. John felt the ground beneath him go soft, his fingers sinking into the earth, his body being pulled down into the soil. He opened his mouth, a final surge of adrenaline and fear pushing through his system, giving him the strength. He wanted to scream and a warbling sound started coming from his throat only to be cut off by raw earth pouring into his open mouth. His lips closed of their own accord and the last thing he saw before the earth swallowed him whole was Lady Athar standing above him, grinning down at him in the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Non-Con element is that John is Turned against his will. He is held down, struggles, and is unable to get free.
> 
> This is the first time we see John's POV. I wanted to do this all in one chapter but I'm on vacation and didn't get around to finishing it! I hope you like it. 
> 
> As always, thank you to herasmom for the beta - she found a LOT of grammar mistakes on my part and I'm very grateful to her!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever posting a WIP so.... be gentle.


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